BOUND  BY  P 

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f|  H.  L.  Koellsch,  | 

y  OlIAKBOTTK,  X.  C.  y 

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C1.^\L.5>  Z. 


THE  ETHEL  CARR  PEACOCK 

MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 

Matris  amori  monumentum 


TRINITY  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

DURHAM,  N.  C. 

1903 


Gift  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Dred  Peacock 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


htt^s://archive.org/details/horseshoerobinso01kenn 


T 


i 


HOUSE 


TOE 


BY 


GEORGE  P, 


-SHOE  ROBINSON: 
51  €ak 


Y  ASCENDEISrCY. 


JOHN  P.  ONNEDY, 

AUTHOR  OF  “SWALLOW  BARN  ' 


‘I  eay  the  tale  as  ’twas  said  to  me.” 

Lay  of 


3Etbt5tJi  jEbitiott. 


E  E  W  Y  0  R  K : 

PUTNAM,  10  PARK  PLyCcE. 


1853. 


Entered  accnr(lii\c:  to  the  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  *852,  by  , 
GEORGE  P.  PUTNAM, 

Ib  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York, 


R.  CRAlOHian.  I'RfNTKK, 

513  rc»LV  Street,  A'ev  Yurk. 


5  1  5 .  ?  2> 
P  ■ 


INTEODUCTION. 


In  the  -winter  of  eighteen  hundred  and  eighteen-nineteen,  I  had 
occasion  to  visit  the  western  section  of  South  Carolina.  The 
public  conveyances  had  taken  me  to  Augusta,  in  Georgia.  There 
I  purchased  a  horse,  a  most  trusty  companion,  with  whom  I  had 
many  pleasant  experiences :  a  sorrel,  yet  retained  by  me  in 
admiring  memory.  A  valise  strapped  behind  my  saddle,  with  a 
great  coat  spread  upon  that,  furnished  all  that  I  required  of 
personal  accommodation.  My  blood  beat  temperately  with  the 
pulse  of  youth  and  health.  I  breathed  the  most  delicious  ah’  in 
the  world.  My  travel  tended  to  the  region  of  the  most  beautiful 
scenery.  The  weather  of  early  J anuary  was  as  balmy  as  October ; 
a  light  warm  haze  mellowed  the  atmosphere,  and  cast  the  softest 
and  richest  hues  over  the  landscape.  I  retraced  my  steps  from 
Augusta  to  Edgefield,  which  I  had  passed  in  the  stage  coach. 
From  Edgefield  I  went  to  Abbeville,  and  thence  to  Pendleton. 
I  was  now  in  the  old  district  of  Ninety  Six,  just  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountains.  My  course  was  still  westward.  I  journeyed  alone,  or 
rather,  I  ought  to  say,  in  good  company,  for  my  horse  and  I  had 
established  a  confidential  friendship,  and  we  amused  om’selves 
with  a  great  deal  of  pleasant  conversation — in  our  way.  Besides, 
my  fancy  was  busy,  and  made  the  wayside  quite  populous — -with 
people  of  its  own  :  there  were  but  few  of  any  other  kind. 

In  the  course  of  my  journey  I  met  an  incident,  which  I  have 
preserved  in  my  journal.  The  reader  of  the  tale  which  occupies 
this  volume  has  some  interest  in  it. 


VI 


INTRODUCTION. 


“  Upon  a  day,”  as  the  old  ballads  have  it,  one  of  the  best  days 
of  this  exquisite  climate,  my  road  threaded  the  defiles  of  some  of 
the  grandest  mountains  of  the  country.  Huge  ramparts  of  rock 
toppled  over  my  path,  and  little  streams  leaped,  in  beautiful 
cascades,  from  ledge  to  ledge,  and  brawled  along  the  channels, 
which  often  supplied  the  only  footway  for  my  horse,  and,  glid¬ 
ing  through  tangled  screens  of  rhododendron,  laurel,  arbor  vitse, 
and  other  evergreens,  plunged  into  rivers,  whose  waters  exceed 
anything  I  had  ever  conceived  of  limpid  purity.  It  may  be 
poetical  to  talk  of  liquid  crystal,  but  no  crystal  has  the  absolute 
perfection  of  the  transparency  of  these  streams.  The  more 
distant  mountain  sides,  where  the  opening  valley  offered  them  to 
my  view,  were  fortified  with  stupendous  walls,  or  banks  of  solid 
and  unbroken  rock,  rising  in  successive  benches  one  above 
another,  with  masses  of  dark  pine  between  ;  the  highest  forming 
a  crest  to  the  mountain,  cutting  the  sky  in  sharp  profile,  with 
images  of  castellated  towers,  battlements,  and  buttresses,  around 
whose  summits  the  inhabiting  buzzard,  with  broad  extended 
wings,  floated  and  rocked  in  air  and  swept  in  majestic  circles. 

The  few  inhabitants  of  this  region  were  principally  the  tenants 
of  the  bounty  lands,  wdiich  the  State  of  South  Carolina  had 
conferred  upon  the  soldiers  of  the  Revolution ;  and  their  settle¬ 
ments,  made  upon  the  rich  bottoms  of  the  river  valleys,  were 
separated  from  each’  other  by  large  tracts  of  forest. 

I  had  much  perplexity  in  some  portions  of  this  day’s  journey  in 
finding  my  way  through  the  almost  pathless  forest  which  lay 
between  two  of  these  settlements.  That  of  which  I  was  in  quest 
was  situated  upon  the  Seneca,  a  tributary  of  the  Savanna  river, 
here  called  Tooloolee.  It  was  near  sundown,  when  I  emerged 
from  the  wilderness  upon  a  wagon  road,  very  uncertain  of  my 
whereabout,  and  entertaining  some  rather  anxious  misgivings  as 
to  my  portion  for  the  night. 

I  had  seen  no  one  for  the  last  five  or  six  hours,  and  upon 


INTRODUCTION. 


vii 


falling  into  the  roud  I  did  not  know  whether  I  was  to  take  the 
right  or  the  left  hand — a  very  material  problem  for  my  solution 
just  then. 

During  this  suspense,  a  lad,  apparently  not  above  ten  years  of 
age,  mourned  bare  back  on  a  fine  horse,  suddenly  emerged  from 
the  wood  about  fifty  paces  ahead  of  me,  and  galloped  along  the 
road  iu  the  same  direction  that  I  had  myself  resolved  to  take.  I 
quickened  my  speed  to  overtake  him,  but  from  the  rapidity  of  liis 
movement,  I  found  myself,  at  the  end  of  a  mile,  not  as  near  him 
as  1  was  at  the  beginning.  Some  open  country  in  front,  however, 
showed  me  that  I  was  approaching  a  settlement.  Almost  at  the 
moment  of  making  this  discovery,  I  observed  that  the  lad  was 
lying  on  the  ground  by  the  road-side.  I  hastened  to  him, 
dismounted,  and  found  him  sadly  in  want  of  assistance.  His 
horse  had  run  off  with  him,  thrown  him,  and  dislocated,  as  it 
afterwards  appeared,  his  shoulder-joint. 

Whilst  I  was  busy  in  rendering  such  aid  as  I  could  afford,  I 
was  joined  by  a  gentleman  of  venei’able  aspect,  the  father  of  the 
youth,  who  came  from  a  dwelling-house  near  at  hand,  which,  in 
the  engrossment  of  my  occupation,  I  had  not  observed.  We 
lifted  the  boy  in  our  arms  and  bore  him  into  the  house. 

I  was  now  in  comfortable  quarters  for  the  night.  The  gentleman 

was  Colonel  T - ,  as  I  was  made  aware  by  his  introduction,  and 

the  kindly  welcome  he  offered  me,  and  I  very  soon  found  myself 
established  upon  the  footing  of  a  favored  guest.  The  boy  was 
laid  upon  a  bed  in  the  room  where  we  sat,  suffering  great  pain, 
and  in  want  of  immediate  attention.  I  entered  into  the  family 
consultation  on  the  case.  Never  have  I  regretted  the  want  of  an 
acquisition,  as  I  then  regretted  that  I  had  no  skill  in  surgery.  I 
was  utterly  incompetent  to  make  a  suggestion  worth  considering. 
The  mother  of  the  family  happened  to  be  absent  that  night ;  and, 
next  to  the  physician,  the  mother  is  the  best  adviser.  There  was 
an  elder  son,  about  my  own  age,  who  was  playing  a  fiddle  when 


viii 


INTRODUCTION. 


we  came  in  ;  and  there  was  a  sister  younger  than  he,  and  brothers 
and  sisters  still  younger.  But  we  were  all  alike  incapable.  The 
poor  boy’s  case  might  be  critical,  and  the  nearest  physician.  Dr. 
Anderson,  resided  at  Pendleton,  thirty  miles  off.  This  is  one  of 
the  conditions  of  frontier  settlement  which  is  not  always  thought 
of. 

In  the  difficulty  of  the  juncture,  a  thought  occurred  to  Colonel 
T.,  which  was  immediately  made  available.  “  I  think  I  will  send 
for  Ilorse-Shoe  Robinson,”  he  said,  with  a  manifest  lighting  up 
of  the  countenance,  as  if  he  had  hit  upon  a  happy  expedient.  “  Get 
a  horse,  my  son,”  he  continued,  addressing  one  of  the  boys,  “  and 
ride  over  to  the  old  man,  and  tell  him  what  has  happened  to 
your  brother ;  and  say,  he  will  oblige  me  if  he  will  come  here 
directly.”  At  the  same  time,  a  servant  was  ordered  to  ride  to 
Pendleton,  and  to  bring  over  Dr.  Anderson. 

In  the  absence  of  the  first  messenger  the  lad  grew  easiei’,  and  it 
became  apparent  that  his  hurt  was  not  likely  to  turn  out 
seriously.  Colonel  T.,  assured  by  this,  drew  his  chair  up  to  the 
fire  beside  mg,  and  with  many  expressions  of  friendly  interest 
inquired  into  the  course  of  my  journey,  and  into  the  numberless 
matters  that  may  be  supposed  to  interest  a  frontier  settler  in  his 
intercourse  with  one  just  from  the  world  of  busy  life.  It  happened 

that  I  knew  an  old  friend  of  his.  General  - ,  a  gentleman 

highly  distinguished  in  professional  and  jjolitical  service,  to  whose 
youth  Colonel  T.  had  been  a  most  timely  patron.  This  circum¬ 
stance  created  a  new  pledge  in  my  favor,  and,  I  believe,  influenced 
the  old  gentleman  in  a  final  resolve  to  send  that  night  for  his 
wife,  who  was  some  seven  or  eight  miles  off,  and  whom  he  had 
been  disinclined  to  put  to  the  discomfort  of  such  a  journey  in  the 
dark,  ever  since  it  was  ascertained  that  the  boy’s  case  was  not 
dangerous.  I  am  pretty  sure  this  influenced  him,  as  I  heard  him 
privately  instructing  a  servant  to  go  for  the  lady,  and  to  tell  her 
that  the  boy’s  injury  was  not  very  severe,  and  “  that  there  was  a 


INTRODUCTION. 


Ut 

gentleman  there  who  was  well  acquainted  with  General  — — 

I  observed,  hanging-  in  a  little  black  frame  over  the  fireplace,  a 
miniature  engraved  portrait  of  the  general,  which  was  the  only 
specimen  of  the  fine  arts  in  the  house — perhaps  in  the  settlement. 
It  was  my  recognition  of  this  likeness  that  led,  I  fear,  to  the  weary 
night  ride  of  the  good  lady. 

In  less  than  an  hour  the  broad  light  of  the  hearth — for  the 
apartment  was  only  lit  up  by  blazing  pine  faggots,  which,  from 
time  to  time,  Avere  thrown  upon  the  fire — fell  upon  a  goodly 
figure.  There  was  first  a  sound  of  hoofs  coming  through  the 
dark — a  halt  at  the  door — a  full,  round,  clear  voice  heard  on  the 
porch  —  and  then  the  entrance  into  the  apartment  of  a  woodland 
hero.  That  fine  rich  voice  again,  in  salutation,  so  gentle  and  so 
manly  !  This  was  our  expected  counsellor,  Horse-Shoe  Robinson. 
What  a  man  I  saw  !  With  near  seventy  years  upon  his  poll,  time 
seemed  to  have  broken  its  billows  over  his  front  only  as  the  ocean 
breaks  over  a  rock.  There  he  stood — tall,  broad,  brawnjq  and 
erect.  The  sharp  light  gilded  his  massive  frame  and  weather¬ 
beaten  face  with  a  pictorial  effect  that  would  have  rejoiced  an 
artist.  Ilis  homely  dress,  his  free  stride,  as  he  advanced  to  the 
fire  ;  his  face  radiant  with  kindness ;  the  natural  gracefulness  of 
his  motion  ;  all  afforded  a  ready  index  to  his  character.  Horse 
Shoe,  it  was  evident,  was  a  man  to  confide  in. 

“  I  hear  your  boy’s  got  flung  from  his  horse.  Colonel,”  he  said, 
as  he  advanced  to  the  bed-side.  “  Do  you  think  he  is  much 
hurt?”  “Hot  so  badly  as  we  thought  at  first,  Mr.  Robinson,” 
was  the  reply.  “  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  coming  over  to¬ 
night.  It  is  a  great  comfort  to  have  your  advice  in  such 
times.” 

“These  little  shavers  are  so  venturesome— with  horses  in  par¬ 
ticular,”  said  the  visitor  ;  “  it’s  Providence,  Colonel,  takes  care  of 
’em.  Let  me  look  at  you,  my  son,”  he  continued,  as  he  removed 
the  bed-clothes,  and  began  to  handle  the  shoulder  of  the  boy. 


X 


INTRODUCTION, 


“  He’s  got  it  out  of  joint,”  he  added,  after  a  moment.  “  Get  me  a 
basin  of  hot  water  and  a  cloth.  Colonel.  I  think  I  can  soon  set 
matters  right.” 

It  was  not  long  before  the  water  was  placed  beside  him,  and 
Eobinson  went  to  work  with  the  earnestness  of  a  practised 
surgeon.  After  applying  wet  cloths  for  some  time  to  the  injured 
part,  he  took  the  shoulder  in  his  broad  hand,  and  with  a  sudden 
movement,  which  was  followed  by  a  shriek  from  the  boy,  he 
brought  the  dislocated  bone  into  its  proper  position.  “  It  doesn’t 
hurt,”  he  said,  laughingly  ;  “  you  are  only  pretending.  How  do 
you  feel  now  ?” 

The  patient  smiled,  as  he  replied,  “  Well  enough  now ;  but  I 
reckon  you  was  joking  if  you  said  that  it  didn’t  hurt.” 

Horse  Shoe  came  to  the  fireside,  and  took  a  chair,  saying, 
“  I  larnt  that.  Colonel,  in  the  campaigns.  A  man  picks  up 
some  good  everywhere,  if  he’s  a  mind  to ;  that’s  my  observa¬ 
tion.” 

This  case  being  disposed  of.  Horse  Shoe  determined  to  remain 
all  night  with  the  family.  We  had  supper,  and,  after  that,  formed 
a  little  party  around  the  hearth.  Colonel  T.  took  occasion  to  tell 
me  something  about  Horse  Shoe ;  and  the  Colonel’s  eldest  son 
gave  me  my  cue,  by  which  he  intimated  I  might  draw  out 
the  old  soldier  to  relate  some  stories  of  the  war. 

“  Ask  him,”  said  the  young  man,  “  how  he  got  away  from 
Charleston  after  the  surrender ;  and  then  get  him  to  tell  you 
how  he  took  the  five  Scotchmen  piisoners.” 

We  were  all  in  good  humor.  The  boy  Avas  quite  easy,  and 
everything  was  going  on  well,  and  Ave  had  determined  to  sit  up 
until  Mrs.  T.  should  arrive,  which  could  not  be  before  midnight. 
Horse  Shoe  was  very  obliging,  and  as  I  expressed  a  great  interest 
in  his  adventures,  he  yielded  himself  to  my  leading,  and  I  got  out 
of  him  a  rich  stock  of  adventure,  of  Avhich  his  life  was  full.  The 
two  famous  passages  to  which  I  had  been  asked  to  question  him 


INTRODUCTION. 


XI 


— the  escape  from  Charleston,  and  the  capture  of  the  Scotch 
soldiers — the  reader  will  find  preserved  in  the  narrative  upon 
which  he  is  about  to  enter,  almost  in  the  very  words  of  my 
anthority.  I  have — perhaps  with  too  much  scruple — retained 
Horse  Shoe’s  peculiar  vocabulary  and  rustic,  doric  form  of  speech — 
holding  these  as  somewhat  necessary  exponents  of  his  character. 
A  more  truthful  man  than  he,  I  am  convinced,  did  not  survive  the 
war  to  tell  its  story.  Truth  was  the  predominant  expression  of 
his  face  and  gesture — the  truth  that  belongs  to  natural  and 
unconscious  bravery,  united  with  a  frank  and  modest  spirit. 
He  seemed  to  set  no  especial  value  upon  his  own  exploits, 
but  to  relate  them  as  items  of  personal  history,  with  as  little 
comment  or  emphasis  as  if  they  concerned  any  one  more  than 
himself. 

It  was  long  after  midnight  before  our  party  broke  up ;  and 
when  I  got  to  my  bed  it  was  to  dream  of  Horse  Shoe  and  his 
adventures.  I  made  a  record  of  what  he  told  me,  whilst  the 
memory  of  it  was  still  fresh,  and  often  afterwards  reverted  to  it, 
when  accident  or  intentional  research  brought  into  my  view  events 
connected  with  the  times  and  scenes  to  which  his  story  had 
reference. 

The  reader  will  thus  see  how  I  came  into  possession  of  the 
leading  incidents  upon  which  this  “  Tale  of  the  Tory  Ascendency” 
in  South  Carolina  is  founded. 

It  was  first  published  in  1835.  Horse-Shoe  Robinson  was  then 
a  very  old  man.  He  had  removed  into  Alabama,  and  lived,  I  am 
told,  upon  the  banks  of  the  Tuskaloosa.  I  commissioned  a  friend 
to  send  him  a  copy  of  the  book.  The  report  brought  me  was, 
that  the  old  man  had  listened  very  attentively  to  the  reading  of 
it,  and  took  great  interest  in  it. 

“  What  do  you  say  to  all  this  ?”  was  the  question  addressed  to 
him,  after  the  reading  was  finished.  His  reply  is  a  voucher. 


XU 


INTRODUCTION. 


whicli  I  desire  to  preserve :  “  It  is  all  true  and  right — in  its  right 
place — excepting  about  them  women,  which  I  disremember.  That 
mought  be  true,  too  ;  but  my  memory  is  treacherous — I  dis- 
remember.” 


AprU  12,  1852 


PREFACE 


TO  THE 

FIRST  EDITION. 


Thk  events  narrated  in  the  following  pages,  came  to  my 
knowledge  in  the  progress  of  my  researches  into  the  personal 
history  of  some  of  the  characters  who  figure  in  the  story.  I 
thought  them  w’orth  being  embodied  into  a  regular  narrative,  for 
two  reasons ; — 

First,  because  they  intrinsically  possess  an  interest  that  may 
amuse  the  lovers  of  adventure,  and 

Second,  because  they  serve  to  illustrate  the  temper  and  charac¬ 
ter  of  the  War  of  our  Revolution. 

As  yet,  only  the  political  and  documentary  history  of  that  war 
has  been  written.  Its  romantic  or  picturesque  features  have  been 
left  for  that  industrious  tribe  of  chroniclers,  of  which  I  hold 
myself  to  be  an  unworthy  member,  and  who  have  of  late,  as  the 
public  is  aware,  set  about  the  business  in  good  earnest.  It  shall 
go  hard  with  us  if  we  do  not  soon  bring  to  light  every  remnant 
of  fruition  that  the  war  has  left ! 

An  opinion  has  heretofore  prevailed  that  the  Revolution  was  too 
recent  an  aftair  for  our  story-telling  craft  to  lay  hands  upon  it. 
But  this  objection,  ever  since  the  fiftieth  anniversary,  has  been 
nullified  by  common  consent, — that  being  deemed  the  fair  poetical 
limit  which  converts  tradition  into  truth,  and  takes  away  all  right 


xiv  PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 

of  contradiction  from  a  surviving  actor  in  fhe  scene.  The  pension 
roll  is  manifestly  growing  thinner,  and  the  widows — married 
young  after  the  peace — make  a  decided  majority  on  the  list. 
These  are  the  second-hand  retailers  of  the  marvels  of  the  war ; 
and  it  is  observed  that,  like  wine  which  has  descended  to  the 
hefr,  the  events  have  lost  none  of  their  flavor  or  value  by  the 
transmission.  This  is  all  so  much  clear  gain  to  our  fraternity  ; 
and  it  is  obvious,  therefore,  that  we  must  thrive. 

My  reader  will  perceive  that  I  have  been  scrupulous  to  preserve 
the  utmost  historical  accuracy  in  my  narrarive  :  and  I  hope,  when 
he  has  finished  the  perusal,  that  he  may  find  reason  to  award  me 
the  commendation  of  having  afforded  him  some  pleasure,  by  the 
sketch  I  have  attempted  of  the  condition  of  things  in  the  south 
during  the  very  interesting  period  of  the  “  Tory  Ascendency.” 

The  Author. 


May  1, 18Sa 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  TOPOGRAPHICAL  DISCOURSE. 

The  belt  of  mountains  which  traverses  the  state  of  Virginia 
diagonally,  from  north-east  to  south-west,  it  will  be  seen  by  an 
inspection  of  the  map,  is  composed  of  a  series  of  parallel  ranges, 
presenting  a  conformation  somewhat  similar  to  that  which  may  be 
observed  in  miniature  on  the  sea-beach,  amongst  the  minute  lines  of 
sand  hillocks  left  by  the  retreating  tide.  This  belt  may  be  said  to 
commence  with  the  Blue  Ridge,  or  more  accurately  speaking,  with 
that  inferior  chain  of  highlands  that  runs  parallel  to  this  mountain 
almost  immediately  along  its  eastern  base.  From  this  region  west¬ 
ward  the  highlands  increase  in  elevation,  the  valleys  become  narrorver, 
steeper  and  cooler,  and  the  landscape  progressively  assumes  the 
wilder  features  which  belong  to  what  is  distinctly  meant  by  “  the 
mountain  country.” 

The  loftiest  heights  in  this  series  are  found  in  the  Alleghany, 
nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  westward  from  the  first  thread 
of  the- belt;  and  as  the  principal  rivers  which  flow  towards  the 
Chesapeake  find  their  sources  in  this  overtopping  line  of  mountain, 
it  may  be  imagined  that  many  scenes  of  surpassing  beauty  exist  in 
those  abrupt  solitudes  where  the  rivers  have  had  to  contend  with  the 
sturdy  hills  that  nature  had  thrown  across  their  passage  to  the  sea. 

1* 


10 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBIKSON. 


The  multiplication  of  the  facilities  of  travel  which  the  spirit  of 
improvement  has,  of  late  years,  afforded  to  this  region ;  the  health¬ 
fulness,  or, — to  use  a  term  more  germain  to  its  excellence, — the 
volujjtuousness  of  the  climate,  and  the  extraordinary  abundance 
of  waters  of  the  rarest  virtue,  both  for  bathing  and  drinking,  have 
all  contributed,  very  recently,  to  render  the  mountains  of  Virginia 
notorious  and  popular  amongst  that  daintily  observant  crowd  of 
well-conditioned  people  who  yearly  migrate  in  quest  of  health,  or 
of  a  refuge  from  the  heats  of  summer,  or  who,  perchance,  wander 
in  pursuit  of  those  associations  of  hill  and  dale  which  are  supposed 
to  repair  a  jaded  imagination,  and  to  render  it  romantic  and  fruitful. 

The  traveller  of  either  of  these  descriptions,  who  holds  his  journey 
westward,  will  find  himself  impelled  to  halt  at  Charlottesville,  as  a 
])leasant  resting-place  in  the  lap  of  the  first  mountains,  where  he  may 
stop  to  reinforce  his  strength  for  the  prosecution  of  the  rugged  task 
that  awaits  him.  His  delay  here  will  not  be  unprofitable.  This 
neat  little  village  is  not  less  recommended  to  notice  by  its  position 
in  the  midst  of  a  cultivated  and  plentiful  country,  than  by  its  conti¬ 
guity  to  the  seats  of  three  Presidents  of  the  Union  ;  and,  especialljq 
by  its  immediate  proximity  to  Monticcdlo,  whose  burnished  dome 
twinkles  through  the  crow'n  of  forest  that  adorns  the  very  apex  of 
its  mountain  pyramid,  and  which,  as  it  has  now  growm  to  be  the 
Mecca  of  many  a  pilgrim,  w’ill  of  itself  furnish  a  sufficient  inducement 
for  our  traveller’s  tarrying.  An  equal  attraction  wdll  be  found  in 
the  University  of  Virginia,  which,  at  the  distance  of  one  mile,  in  the 
opposite  direction  from  that  leading  to  Monticello,  rears  its  gorgeous 
and  fantastic  piles  of  massive  and  motley  architecture — a  lively  and 
faithful  symbol  (I  speak  it  revai’ently)  of  the  ambitious,  parti-colored 
and  gallican  taste  of  its  illustrious  founder. 

From  Charlottesville,  proceeding  southwardly,  in  the  direction  of 
Nelson  and  Amherst,  the  road  lies  generally  over  an  undulating 
country,  formed  by  the  succession  of  hills  constituting  the  subordinate 
chain  of  mountains  which  I  have  described  as  first  in  the  belt. 
These  hills  derive  a  beautiful  feature  from  the  manner  in  which  they 
are  commanded, — to  use  a  military  phrase, — by  the  Blue  Pddge, 
which,  for  the  whole  distance,  rests  against  the  western  horizon,  and 
heaves  up  its  frequent  pinnacles  amongst  the  clouds,  clothed  in  all 
the  variegated  tints  that  belong  to  the  scale  of  vision,  from  the , 


HOESE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


11 


sombre  green  and  pui'irle  of  the  nearer  masses,  to  the  light  and 
almost  indistinguishable  azure  of  its  remotest  summits. 

The  constant  interrujition  of  some  gushing  rivulet,  which  hurries 
from  the  neighboring  mountain  into  the  close  vales  that  intercept  the 
road,  communicates  a  trait  of  peculiar  interest  to  this  journey, 
affording  that  pleasant  surprise  of  new  and  unexpected  scenery, 
which,  more  than  any  other  concomitant  of  travel,  wards  off  the 
sense  of  fatigue.  These  streams  have  worn  deep  channels  through 
the  hills,  and  constantly  seem  to  solicit  the  road  into  narrow  passes 
and  romantic  dells,  where  fearful  crags  are  seen  topj)ling  over  the 
head  of  the  traveller,  and  sparkling  Avaters  tinkle  at  his  feet;  and 
Avhere  the  richest  and  rarest  trees  of  the  forest  seem  to  have  chosen 
their  several  stations,  on  mossy  bank  or  cloven  rock,  in  obedience  to 
some  master  mind  intent  upon  the  most  tasteful  and  striking  combi¬ 
nation  of  these  natural  elements. 

A  part  of  the  country  embraced  in  this  descrij)tlon,  has  obtained 
the  local  designation  of  the  South  Garden,  perhaps  from  its  succes¬ 
sion  of  fertile  fields  and  fragrant  meadow's,  w'hich  are  shut  in  by  the 
walls  of  mountain  on  either  hand ;  whilst  a  still  more  remote  but 
adjacent  district  of  more  rugged  features,  beai's  the  appellation  of  the 
Cove,  the  name  being  suggc'sted  iiy  the  narrow'  and  encompassing 
character  of  the  sharp  and  jirecipitous  hills  that  hem  in  and  over¬ 
shadow  a  rough  and  brattling  mountain  torrent,  av Inch  is  marked 
on  the  map  as  the  Cove  creek. 

At  the  period  to  Avhich  m3'  stoiy  refers,  the  population  of  this 
central  district  of  Virginia,  exhibited  but  fcAV  of  the  chai'acteristics 
which  are  found  to  distinguish  the  present  race  of  inhabitants.  A 
rich  soil,  a  pure  atmosphere,  and  gTeat  abundance  of  Avood  and  Avater, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  sylvan  beauties  of  the  mountain,  possessed  a 
great  attraction  f;r  the  wealth}'  propi'ietors  of  the  Ioav  country  ;  and 
the  land  w'as,  therefore,  generally  j^arcelled  out  in  large  estates  held 
by  opulent  oAvners,  Avhose  husbandry  did  not  fail,  at  least,  to  accu¬ 
mulate  in  profusion  the  comforts  of  life,  and  afford  full  scope  to  that 
prodigal  hospitality,  Avhich,  at  that  period  CA'en  more  than  at  present, 
Avas  the  boast  of  the  state.  The  laAvs  of  primogeniture  exercised 
their  due  influence  on  the  national  habits ;  and  the  odious  dir-ision 
of  property  amongst  undeserving  younger  brothers,  whom  our  mo¬ 
dern  philosophy  Avould  fain  persuade  us  have  as  much  merit,  and  as 


12 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


little  capacity  to  tliiive  in  the  world  as  their  elders,  had  not  yet 
formed  part  of  the  household  thoughts  of  these  many-acred  squires. 
From  Charlottesville,  therefore,  both  north  and  south,  from  the 
Potomac  to  the  James  river,  there  extended  a  chain  of  posts,  occu¬ 
pied  by  lordly  and  open-hearted  gentlemen, — a  kind  of  civil  cordon 
of  bluff  free-livers  who  were  but  little  vereed  in  the  mystery  of 
“  bringing  the  two  ends  of  the  year  together.” 

Since  that  period,  well-a-day  !  the  hand  of  the  reaper  has  put  in 
his  sickle  upon  divided  fields ;  crowded  progenies  have  grown  up 
under  these  paternal  roof-trees ;  daughters  have  married  and  brought 
in  strange  names ;  the  subsistence  of  one  has  been  spread  into  the 
garner  of  ten;  the  villages  have  gTOwn  populous;  the  University 
has  lifted  up  its  didactic  head ;  and  everywhere  over  this  abode  of 
ancient  wealth,  the  hum  of  industry  is  heard  in  the  carol  of  the 
ploughman,  the  echo  of  the  wagoner’s  whip,  the  rude  song  of  the 
boatman,  and  in  the  clatter  of  the  mill.  Such  are  the  mischievous 
interpolations  of  the  republican  system  ! 

My  rcadei’,  after  this  topographical  sketch  and  the  political  reflec¬ 
tions  with  which  I  have  accompanied  it,  is  doubtless  well-prepared 
for  the  introduction  of  the  worthy  pereonages  with  whom  I  am 
about  to  make  him  acquainted. 


CHAPTER  II. 


WHEREIN  THE  READER  IS  INTRODDCED  TO  TWO  WORTHIES  "WITH 

WHOM  HE  IS  LIKELY  TO  FORM  AN  INTIMATE  ACQUAINTANCE. 

It  was  about  two  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  of  a  day  towards  the 
end  of  July,  1780,  when  Captain  Arthur  Butler,  now  holding  a 
brevet,  some  ten  days  old,  of  major  in  the  continental  army,  and 
Galbraith  Robinson  were  seen  descending  the  long  hill  which 
separates  the  South  Garden  from  the  Cove.  They  had  just  left  the 
rich  and  mellow  scenery  of  the  former  district,  and  were  now 
jtassing  into  the  picturesque  valley  of  the  latter.  It  was  evident 
from  the  travel-worn  appearance  of  their  horses,  as  well  as  from  their 
equipments,  that  they  had  journeyed  many  a  mile  before  they  had 
reached  this  spot ;  and  it  might  also  have  been  perceived  that  the 
shifting  beauties  of  the  landscape  were  not  totally  disregarded  by 
Butler,  at  least, — as  he  was  seen  to  halt  on  the  summit  of  the  hill, 
turn  and  gaze  back  upon  the  wood-embowered  fields  that  lay 
beneath  his  eye,  and  by  lively  gestures  to  direct  the  notice  of  his 
companion  to  the  same  quarter.  Often,  too,  as  they  moved  slowly 
downward,  he  reined  up  his  steed  to  contemplate  more  at  leisure 
the  close,  forest-shaded  ravnne  before  them,  through  which  the  Cove 
creek  held  its  noisy  way.  It  was  not  so  obvious  that  his  companion 
responded  to  the  earnest  emotions  which  this  wild  and  beautiful  , 
scenery  excited  in  his  mind. 

Arthur  Butler  was  now  in  the  possession  of  the  vigor  of  early 
manhood,  with  apparently  some  eight  and  twenty  years  upon  his 
head.  His  frame  was  well  proportioned,  light  and  active.  His 
face,  though  distinguished  by  a  smooth  and  almost  beardless  cheek, 
still  presented  an  outline  of  decided  manh’  beauty.  The  sun  and 
wind  had  tanned  his  complexion,  except  where  a  rich  volume  of 
black  hair  upon  his  brow  had  preserved  the  original  fairness  of  a 

13 


14 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


liigli,  broad  forehead.  A  hazel  eye  sj^arkled  under  the  shade  of  a 
dark  lash,  and  indicated,  by  its  alternate  playfulness  and  decision, 
an  adventurous  as  well  as  a  cheerful  spirit.  His  whole  bearing, 
visage  and  figure,  seemed  to  speak  of  one  familiar  with  enterprise 
and  fond  of  danger : — they  denoted  gentle  breeding  predominating 
over  a  life  of  toil  and  privation. 

Notwithstanding  his  profession,  which  was  seen  in  his  erect  and 
peremptory  carriage,  his  dress,  at  this  time,  was,  with  some  slight 
exceptions,  merely  civil.  And  here,  touching  this  matter  of  dress, 
I  have  a  prefatory  word  to  say  to  my  reader.  Although  custom,  or 
the  fashion  of  the  story-telhng  craft,  may  require  that  I  should 
satisfy  the  antiquarian  in  this  important  circumstance  of  apparel  of 
the  days  gone  by,  yet,  on  the  present  occasion,  I  shall  be  somewhat 
chary  of  my  lore  in  that  behalf ; — seeing  that  any  man  who  is 
curious  on  the  score  of  the  coslume  of  the  revolution  time,  may  be 
fully  satisfied  by  studying  those  most  graphic  “  counterfeit  present¬ 
ments  ”  of  sundry  historical  passages  of  that  day,  wherewith  Colonel 
'J’rumbull  has  furnished  this  age,  for  the  edification  of  posterity,  in 
the  great  rotunda  of  the  Capitol  of  the  United  States.  And  I 
confess,  too,  I  have  another  reason  for  m}^  present  reluctance,— as  F 
feed  some  faint  misgiving  lest  my  principal  actor  might  run  the  risk 
of  making  a  sorry  figure  with  the  living  generation,  were  I* to 
introduce  him  upon  the  stage  in  a  coat,  whose  technical  description, 
after  the  manner  of  a  botanical  formula,  might  be  comprised  in  the 
following  summary  : — long-waisted — wide-skirted — narrow-collared 
— broad-backed — big-buttoned — and  largedapelled  ; — and  then  to 
add  to  this,  what  would  be  equally  outlandish,  yellow  small-clothes, 
and  dark-topped  boots,  attached  by  a  leather  strap  to  the  buttons  at 
the  knee, — without  which  said  boots,  no  gentleman  in  1Y8G 
ventured  to  mount  on  horseback. 

But  when  I  say  that  Captain  Butler  travelled  on  his  present 
iourney,  habited  in  the  civil  costume  of  a  gentleman  of  the  time,  I 
do  not  mean  to  exclude  a  round  hat  pretty  much  of  the  fashion  of 
the  present  day — though  then  hut  little  used  except  amongst 
military  men — with  a  white  cockade  to  show  his  party;  nor  do  I 
wish  to  be  considered  as  derogating  from  that  peaceful  character 
when  I  add  that  his  saddle-bow  w'as  fortified  by  a  brace  of 
horseman’s  pistols,  stowed  away  in  large  holsters,  covered  with  bear 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


16 


g]jin ; — for,  in  those  days,  when  hostile  banners  were  unfurled,  and 
men  challenged  each  other  upon  the  highways,  these  pistols  were  a 
part  of  the  countenance  (to  use  an  excellent  old  phrase)  of  a 
gentleman. 

Galbraith  Robinson  was  a  man  of  altogether  rougher  mould. 
Nature  had  carved  out,  in  his  person,  an  athlete  whom  the  sculptors 
might  have  studied  to  improve  the  Hercules.  Every  lineament  of 
his  body  indicated  strength.  Ilis  stature  w:is  rather  above  six  feet ; 
his  chest  broad ;  his  limbs  sinewy,  and  remarkable  for  their  sym¬ 
metry.  There  seemed  to  be  no  useless  flesh  upon  Ins  frame  to 
soften  the  prominent  surface  of  his  muscles  ;  and  his  ample  thigh, 
as  he  sat  upon  horseback,  showed  the  working  of  its  texture  at  each 
step,  as  if  j)art  of  the  animal  on  which  he  rode.  Ills  was  one  of 
those  iron  forms  that  might  be  imagined  almost  bullet  proof.  With 
all  these  advantages  of  poison,  there  was  a  radiant,  broad,  good 
nature  upon  his  face ;  and  the  glance  of  a  large,  clear,  blue  eye  told 
of  arch  thoughts,  and  of  shrewd,  homely  wisdom.  A  ruddy 
comjflexion  accorded  well  with  his  sprightly,  but  massive  features, 
of  wliich  the  pre\'ailing  expression  was  such  as  silently  invited 
friendship  and  trust.  If  to  these  traits  be  added  an  abundant 
shock  of  yellow,  curly  hair,  terminating  in  a  luxuriant  queue,  confined 
by  a  narrow  strand  of  leather  cord,  my  reader  will  have  a  tolerably 
correct  idea  of  the  person  I  wish  to  describe. 

Robinson  had  been  a  blacksmith  at  the  breaking  out  of  the 
revolution,  and,  in  truth,  could  hardly  be  said  to  have  yet  abandoned 
the  craft ;  although  of  late,  he  had  been  engaged  in  a  course  of 
life  which  had  but  little  to  do  with  the  anvil,  e.xcept  in  that 
metaphorical  sense  of  hammering  out  and  shaping  the  rough,  iron 
independence  of  his  country.  He  was  the  owner  of  a  httle  farm  in 
the  Waxhaw  settlement,  on  the  Catawba,  and  having  pitched  his 
habitation  upon  a  promontory,  around  whose  base  the  AVax^aw 
creek  swejit  \rfth  a  regular  but  narrow  circuit,  this  locality,  taken  in 
connexion  with  his  calling,  gave  rise  to  a  common  prefix  to  his 
name  throughout  the  neighborhood,  and  he  was  therefore  almost 
exclusivelv  distinguished  by  the  sobriquet  of  Horse  Shoe  Robinson. 
This  familiar  appellative  had  followed  him  into  the  army. 

The  age  of  Horse  Shoe  was  some  seven  or  eight  years  in 
iidvance  of  that  of  Butler — a  circumstance  whicli  the  worthy  senior 


16 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBIXSOX. 


did  not  fail  to  use  vritli  some  autlioritT  in  their  personal  intercoiu'se, 
holding  himself  on  that  account,  to  he  hke  Cassius,  an  elder,  if  not 
a  better  soldier.  On  the  present  occasion,  his  dress  was  of  the 
plainest  and  most  rustic  descrijfitiou :  a  spherical  cro\\nied  hat  with 
a  broad  brim,  a  coarse  grey  coatee  of  mixed  cotton  and  wool,  dai’k 
hnsey-woolsey  trowseis  adhering  closely  to  his  leg,  hob -nailed  shoes, 
and  a  red  cotton  handkerchief  tied  carelessly  round  his  neck  with  a 
knot  upon  his  bosom.  This  costume,  and  a  long  rifle  throum  into 
the  angle  of  the  right  arm,  with  the  breech  resting  on  his  pommel, 
and  a  pouch  of  deer-skin,  with  a  powder  horn  attached  to  it, 
suspended  on  his  right  side,  might  have  warranted  a  spectator  in 
taking  Robinson  for  a  woodsman,  or  hunter  fi-om  the  neighboring 
mountains. 

Such  were  the  two  personages  who  now  came  “  pricking  o’er  the 
hill.'’  The  period  at  which  I  have  presented  them  to  my  reader 
was,  perhaps,  the  most  anxious  one  of  the  whole  struggle  for 
independence.  TVithout  falling  into  along  narrative  of  events  which  are 
famihar,  at  least  to  every  American,  I.  may  recall  the  fact  that  Gates 
had  just  passed  southward,  to  take  cotnmand  of  the  army  destined 
to  act  against  Cornwallis.  It  was  now  within  a  few  weeks  of  that 
decisive  battle  which  sent  the  hero  of  Saratoga  “  bootless  home  and 
weather-beaten  back,”  to  ponder  over  the  mutations  of  fortune,  and, 
in  the  quiet  shades  of  Virginia,  to  strike  the  balance  of  fame 
between  northern  glory  and  southern  discomfiture.  It  may  be 
imagined  then,  that  our  travellers  were  not  without  some  share  of 
that  intense  interest  for  the  events  “  upon  the  gale,”  which  every¬ 
where  pervaded  the  nation.  Still,  as  I  have  before  hinted,  Arthur 
Butler  did  not  journey  through  this  beautiful  region  without  a 
lively  perception  of  the  charms  which  nature  had  spread  around 
him.  The  soil  of  this  district  is  remarkable  for  its  blood-red  hue. 
The  side  of  every  bank  glowed  in  the  sun  with  this  bright 
A-«rmiIlion  tint,  and  the  new-made  furrow,  wherever  the  early 
ploughman  had  scarred  the  soil,  turned  up  to  view  the  predomi 
nating  color.  The  contrast  of  this  with  the  luxuriant  grass  and 
the  yellow  stubble,  with  the  grey  and  tnossy  rock,  and  with  the 
deep  green  shade  of  the  surrounding  forest,  perpetually  sohcited 
the  notice  of  the  lover  of  landscape ;  and  from  every  height,  the 
eye  rested  with  pleasure  upon  the  rich  meadows  of  the  bottom 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBIN  SOX. 


17 


land — upon  the  varied  cornfields  spread  over  the  hills ;  upon  the 
adjacent  mountains,  with  their  bald  crags  peeping  through  the  screen 
of  forest,  and  especially  upon  the  broad  lines  of  naked  earth 
that,  here  and  there,  hghted  up  and  reheved,  as  a  painter  would 
say,  with  its  warm  coloring,  the  heavy  masses  of  shade. 

The  day  was  hot,  and  it  was  with  a  grateful  sense  of  refreshment 
that  our  wayfareis,  no  less  than  their  horses,  found  themselves,  as 
they  appjroached  the  lowland,  gradually  penetrating  the  deep  and 
tangled  thicket  and  the  high  wood  that  hung  over  and  darkened  the 
vhannel  of  the  small  stream  which  rippled  through  the  valley.  Their 
road  lay  along  this  stream  and  frequently  crossed  it  at  narrow  fords, 
where  the  water  fell  from  rock  to  rock  in  small  cascades,  presenting 
natural  basins  of  the  limpid  flood,  embosomed  in  laurel  and  alder, 
and  gurgling  that  busy  music  which  is  one  of  the  most  welcome 
sounds  to  the  ear  of  a  wearied  and  overheated  traveller. 

Butler  said  but  little  to  his  companion,  except  now  and  then  to 
express  a  passing  emotion  of  admiration  for  the  natural  embellish¬ 
ments  of  the  region  ;  until,  at  length,  the  road  brought  them  to  a 
huge  mass  of  rock,  from  whose  base  a  fountain  issued  forth  over  a 
bed  of  gravel,  and  soon  lost  itself  in  the  brook  hard  by.  A  small 
strip  of  bark,  that  some  friend  of  the  traveller  had  placed  there, 
caught  the  pure  water  as  it  was  distilled  from  the  rock,  and  threw  it 
off  in  a  spout,  some  few’  inches  above  the  surface  of  the  ground.  The 
earth  trodden  around  this  spot  showed  it  to  be  a  customary  halting 
place  for  those  who  journeyed  on  the  road. 

Here  Butler  checked  his  hoi-se,  and  announced  to  his  comrade  his 
intention  to  suspend,  for  a  w  hile,  the  toil  of  travel. 

“There  is  one  thing,  Galbraith,”  said  he,  as  he  dismounted, 
“  wherein  all  philosophers  agree — man  must  eat  when  he  is  hungry, 
and  rest  w’hen  he  is  weary.  TVe  have  now  been  some  six  hours  on 
horseback,  and  as  this  fountain  seems  to  have  been  put  here  for  our 
use,  it  would  be  sinfully  shghting  the  bounties  of  pro\-idence  not  to 
do  it  the  honor  of  a  halt.  Get  down,  man ;  rummage  your  havre- 
sac,  and  let  us  see  what  you  have  there.”  dfe 

Robinson  was  soon  upon  his  feet,  and  taking^TO  horses  a  little 
distance  off,  he  fastened  their  bridles  to  the  impending  branches  of 
a  tree;  then  opening  his  saddle-bags,  he  produced  a  wallet  with 
which  he  approached  the  fountain,  where-Butler  had  thrown  him- 


IS 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


self  at  full  leiigtli  upon  the  grass.  Here,  as  lie  successively  disclosed 
his  stores,  lie  announced  his  bill  of  fare,  with  suitable  deliberation 
between  each  item,  in  the  following  terms  : 

“  I  don’t  march  without  jirovisions,  you  see,  captain — or  major,  I 
suppose  I  must  call  you  now.  Here’s  the  rear  divdsion  of  a  roast 
])ig,  and  along  with  it,  by  way  of  flankers,  two  spread  eagles  (hold¬ 
ing  up  two  broiled  fowls),  and  here  are  four  slices  from  the  best  end 
of  a  ham.  Besides  these,  I  can  throw  in  two  apple-jacks,  a  half 
dozen  of  rolls,  and—” 

“Your  wallet  is  as  bountiful  as  a  conjurer’s  bag,  sergeant;  it  is  a 
perfect  cornucopia.  How  did  you  come  by  all  this  provender?” 

“  It  isn’t  so  overmuch,  major,  when  you  come  to  consider,”  said 
Kobinson.  “The  old  landlady  at  Charlottesville  is  none  of  your 
heap-up,  shake-down,  and  running-over  landladies,  and  when  I  sig- 
infied  to  her  that  we  mought  w'aut  a  snack  upjon  the  road,  she  as 
much  as  gave  me  to  understand  that  there  wa’n’t  nothing  to  be  had. 
But  I  took  care  to  make  fair  weather  with  her  daughter,  as  I  always 
do  amongst  the  creatures,  and  she  let  me  into  the  pantry,  where  I 
made  bold  to  stow  away  these  few  trifling  articles,  under  the  deno¬ 
mination  of  pillage.  If  you  are  fond  of  Indian  corn  bread,  I  can 
give  you  a  pretty  good  slice  of  that.” 

“  Pillage,  Galbraith !  You  forget  }'ou  are  not  in  an  enemy’s 
country.  I  directed  you  scrupulously  to  pay  for  everything  you  got 
upon  the  road.  I  hope  you  have  not  omitted  it  to-day  ?” 

“  Lord,  sir !  what  do  these  women  do  for  the  cause  of  liberty  but 
cook,  and  wash,  and  mend !”  exclaimed  the  sergeant.  “  I  told  the  old 
Jezebel  to  charge  it  all  to  the  continental  congress.” 

“  Out  upon  it,  man  !  Would  you  bring  us  into  discredit  with 
our  best  friends,  by  your  villanous  habits  of  free  quarters  ?” 

“  I  am  not  the  only  man,  major,  that  has  been  spoiled  in  his  reli¬ 
gion  by  these  wars.  I  had  both  politeness  and  decency  till  we  got 
to  squabbling  over  our  chimney  corners  in  Carolina.  But  when  a 
man’s  conscience  begins  to  get  hard,  it  does  it  faster  than  anything 
in  nature :  it  is,  I  may  say,  like  the  boiling  of  an  egg — it  is  very 
clear  at  first,  but  as  soon  as  it  gets  cloudy,  one  minute  more  and  you 
may  cut  it  with  a  knife.” 

“  Well,  well !  Let  us  fall  to,  sergeant ;  this  is  no  time  to  argue 
points  of  conscience.” 


liOUSJi  SHOE  KOBINSON. 


10 


V 

“  You  seem  to  take  no  notice  of  this  here  bottle  of  peach  brandy, 
major,”  said  Robinson.  “  It’s  a  bird  that  came  out  of  the  same 
nest.  To  my  thinking  it’s  a  sort  of  a  file  leader  to  an  eatable,  if  it 
ar’u’t  an  eatable  itself.” 

“  Peace,  Galbraith !  it  is  the  vice  of  the  army  to  set  too  much 
store  by  this  devil  brandy.” 

The  sergeant  was  outwardly  moved  by  an  inward  laugh  that 
shook  his  head  and  shoulders. 

“Do  you  suppose,  major,  that  Troy  town  was  taken  without 
brandy  ?  It’s  drilling  and  countermarching  and  charging  with  the 
bagnet,  all  three,  sir.  But  before  we  begin,  I  will  just  strip  our 
horses.  A  fluny  of  cool  air  on  the  saddle  spot  is  the  best  thing  in 
nature  for  a  tired  horse.” 

Robinson  now  performed  this  office  for  their  jaded  cattle ;  and 
having  given  them  a  mouthful  of  water  at  the  brook,  returned  to  his 
post,  and  soon  began  to  despatch,  with  a  laudable  alacrity,  the  heaps 
of  provision  before  him.  Butler  partook  with  a  keen  appetite  of 
this  sylvan  repast,  and  was  greatly  amused  to  see  with  what  relish 
his  companion  caused  slice  after  slice  to  vanish,  until  nothing  was 
left  of  this  large  supply  but  a  few  fragments. 

“You  have  lost  neither  stomach  nor  strength  by  the  troubles, 
sergeant ;  the  short  commons  of  Charleston  would  have  gone  some¬ 
thing  against  the  grain  with  you,  if  you  had  stayed  for  that  course  of 
diet.” 

“  It  is  a  little  over  two  months,”  said  Robinson,  “  since  I  got  away 
from  them  devils ;  and  if  it  hadn’t  been  for  these  here  wings  of  mine 
(pointing  to  his  legs),  I  might  have  been  a  caged  bird  to-day.” 

“  You  have  never  told  me  the  story  of  your  escape,”  said  Butler. 

“  You  were  always  too  busy,  or  too  full  of  your  own  thoughts, 
major,  for  me  to  take  up  your  time  with  such  talk,”  replied  the 
other.  “  But,  if  you  would  like  me  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  while 
you  are  resting  yourself  here  on  the  ground,  and  have  got  nothing 
better  to  think  about,  why.  I’ll  start  hke  old  Jack  Carter  of  our  mess, 
by  beginning,  as  he  used  to  say  when  he  had  a  tough  story  ahead, 
right  at  the  beginning.” 

“  Do  so,  sergeant,  and  do  it  discreetly  ‘y^ut  first,  swallow  that 
mouthful,  for  you  don’t  speak  very  clear.” 

“I’ll  wash  doAvn  the  gutter,  major,  according  to  camp  fashion, 

\ 


20 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


and  then  my  throat  will  he  as  clear  as  the  morning  gun  after  sun¬ 
rise.” 

And  saying  this,  the  tall  soldier  helped  himself  to  a  hearty  draught 
of  cool  water  mingled  in  fair  proportion  with  a  part  of  the  contents 
of  his  flask,  and  setting  the  cup  down  by  his  side,  he  commenced  as 
follows  : — 

“  You  was  with  us,  major,  when  Prevost  served  us  that  trick  in 
Georgia,  last  year— kept  us,  you  remember,  on  the  look  out  for  him 
t’other  side  of  the  Savannah,  whilst  all  the  time  he  was  whiskino:  of 
it  down  to  Charleston.” 

“  You  call  this  beginning  at  the  beginning  ?  Faith,  you  have 
started  a  full  year  before  your  time.  Do  you  think  yourself  a  Poly¬ 
bius  or  a  Xenophon — who  were  two  famous  old  fellows,  just  in 
your  line,  sergeant — that  you  set  out  with  a  history  of  a  whole 
war.” 

“  I  never  knew  any  persons  in  our  line — oflflcers  or  men — of  either 
of  them  names,” — replied  Robinson, — “  they  were  nicknames,  per¬ 
haps  ; — but  I  do  know,  as  well  as  another,  when  a  thing  turns  up 
that  is  worth  notice,  major ;  and  this  is  one  of  ’em  : — and  that’s  the 
reason  why  I  make  mention  of  it.  What  I  was  going  to  say  was 
this — that  it  was  a  sign  fit  for  General  Lincoln’s  consarnment,  that 
these  here  British  should  make  a  push  at  Charleston  on  the  tenth 
of  May,  1779,  and  get  beaten,  and  that  exactly  in  one  year  and  two 
days  afterwards,  they  should  make  another  push  and  win  the  town. 
Now,  what  was  it  a  sign  of,  but  that  they  and  the  tories  was  more 
industrious  that  year  than  we  were  ?” 

“  Granted,”  said  Butler,  “now  to  your  story.  Mister  Philosopher!” 

“  In  what  month  was  it  you  left  us  ?”  inquired  the  sergeant 
gravely. 

“  In  March,”  answered  Butler. 

“  General  Lincoln  sent  you  OS',  as  we  were  told,  on  some  business 
with  the  continental  congress ;  to  get  us  more  troops,  if  I  am  i-ight. 
It  was  a  pity  to  throw  away  a  good  army  on  such  a  place — for  it 
wa’nt  worth  defending  at  last.  From  the  time  that  you  set  out, 
they  began  to  shut  us  in,  every  day  a  little  closer.  First,  they 
closed  a  door  on  one  side,  and  then  on  t’other :  till,  at  last  they  sent 
a  sort  of  flash-o’-lightning  fellow — this  here  Colonel  Tarleton — up  to 
Monk’s  corner,  which,  you  know,  was  our  back  door,  and  he  shut 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


21 


that  up  and  double  bolted  it,  by  giving  Huger  a  most  tremenjious 
lathering.  Now,  when  we  were  shut  in,  we  had  nothing  to  do  but 
look  out.  I’ll  tell  you  an  observation  I  made,  at  that  time.” 

“  Well.” 

“  Wh}'^,  ivhen  a  man  hiis  got  to  fight,  it’s  a  natural  sort  of  thing 
enough ; — but  when  he  has  got  nothing  to  eat,  it’s  an  onnatural 
state.  1  have  beam  of  men  who  should  have  said  they  would  rather 
fight  than  eat : — if  they  told  truth  they  would  have  made  honest 
fellows  for  our  garrison  at  Charlestown.  First,  our  vegetables—after 
that  devil  took  up  his  quarters  at  Monk’s  corner — began  to  give  out : 
then,  our  meat ;  and,  finally,  we  had  nothing  left  but  rice,  which  I 
consider  neither  fish,  flesh,  nor  good  salt  herring” - - 

“  You  had  good  spirits,  though,  sergeant.” 

“  If  you  mean  rum  or  brandy,  major,  we  hadn’t  much  of  that ; — 
but  if  you  mean  jokes  and  laughs,  it  must  be  hard  times  that  will 
stop  them  in  camp. — I’ll  tell  you  one  of  them,  that  made  a  great 
hurra  on  both  sides,  where  w’e  got  the  better  of  a  Scotch  regiment 
that  was  plaguing  us  from  outside  the  town.  They  thought  they 
would  make  themselves  merry  with  our  starvation — so,  they  throwed 
a  bomb  shell  into  our  lines,  that,  as  it  came  along  through  the  air, 
we  saw  had  some  devilment  in  it,  from  the  streak  it  made  in  day¬ 
light  ;  and,  sure  enough,  when  we  come  to  look  at  it  on  the  ground, 
we  found  it  filled  with  rice  and  molasses — ^just  to* show  that  these 
Scotchmen  were  laughing  at  us  for  having  nothing  to  eat.  Well, 
w'hat  do  we  do  but  fill  another  shell  with  brimstone  and  hogslard, 
and  just  drop  it  handsomely  amongst  the  lads  from  the  land  o’cakes  ? 
Gad,  sir,  it  soon  got  to  the  hearing  of  the  English  regiment,  and 
such  a  shouting  as  they  sot  up  from  their  lines  against  the  Scotch¬ 
men  !  That’s  what  I  call  giving  as  good  as  they  saunt,  major — ha 
ha  ha !’ 

“  It  wasn’t  a  bad  repartee,  Galbraith,”  said  Butler,  joining  in  the 
laugh.  “  But  go  on  with  your  siege.” 

”  We  got  taken,  at  last,”  proceeded  Horse  Shoe,  “  and  surrendered 
on  the  ]2tlvof  May.  Do  you  know  that  they  condescended  to  let 
us  go  through  the  motions  of  marching  outside  the  lines?  Still  it 
was  a  sorry  day  to  see  our  colors  tied  as  fast  to  their  sticks  as  if  a 
stocking  had  been  drawn  over  them.  After  that,  we  were  marched 
to  the  barracks  and  put  into  close  confilfS^^nt.” 


22 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Yes,  I  have  heard  that ;  and  with  heavy  hearts — and  a  dreary 
prospect  before  you,  sergeant.” 

“I  shouldn’t  have  minded  it  much,  Major  Butler,  it  was  the 
fortune  of  war.  But  they  insulted  us  as  soon  as  they  got  our  arms 
from  us.  It  was  a  blasted  cowardly  trick  in  them  to  endeavor  to 
wean  us  from  our  cause,  which  they  tried  every  day ;  it  was 
seduction,  I  may  say.  First,  they  told  us  that  Colonel  Pinckney 
and  some  other  officers  had  gone  over;  but  that  was  too 
onprobable  a  piece  of  rascality, — we  didn’t  believe  one  w’ord  on’t. 
So,  one  morning  Colonel  Pinckney  axed  that  w^e  mought  be  drawed 
up  in  a  line  in  front  of  the  barracks  ;  and  there  he  made  us  a  speech. 
We  were  as  silent  as  so  many  men  on  a  surprise  party.  The 
colonel  said — ^yes,  sir,  and  right  in  their  very  teeth — that  it  was  an 
infamious,  audacious  calamy  ;  that  whenever  he  desarted  the  cause 
of  liberty,  he  hoped  they  would  take  him,  as  they  had  done  some 
Homan  officer  or  other — I  think  one  Officious,  as  I  underetood  the 
colonel — you’ve  hearn  of  him,  may  be — and  tie  his  limbs  to  wild 
horses,  and  set  them  adrift,  at  full  speed,  taking  all  his  joints  apart, 
so  that  not  one  traitorious  limb  should  be  left  to  kee]”)  company  with 
another.  It  was  a  mighty  severe  punishment,  whoever  he  mought’a 
been.  The  British  officers  began  to  frown — and  I  saw  one  chap 
put  his  hand  upon  his  sword.  It  would  have  done  you  good  to 
witness  the  look  fhe  colonel  gave  him,  as  he  p)ut  his  own  hand  to 
his  thigh  to  feel  if  his  sword  was  there — he  so  naturally  forgot  he 
■was  a  prisoner.  They  made  him  stop  speaking  howsever,  because 
they  gave  out  that  it  was  perditious  language ;  and  so,  they  dismissed 
us — but  w'e  let  them  have  three  cheers  to  show  that  we  w^ere  in 
heart.” 

“  It  was  like  Pinckney,”  said  Butler ;  “  I’ll  ■warrant  him  a  true 
man,  Galbraith.” 

“I’ll  thribble  that  warrant,”  replied  Galbraith,  “and  afterwards 
make  it  nine.  I  wish  you  could  have  hearn  him.  I  always  thought 
a  bugle  horn  the  best  mu-sic  in  the  world,  till  that  day.  But  that 
day  Colonel  Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckney’s  voice  v,\as  sweeter  than 
shawns  and  trumpets,  as  the  preacher  says,  and  bugles  to  boot.  I 
have  hearn  people  tell  of  speeches  jvorking  like  a  fiddle  on  a  man’s 
nerves,  major:  but,  for  my  part,  I  think  they  sometimes  work  hkea 
battery  of  field-pieces,  or  a  whole  regimental  band  on  a  parade  day. 


HORSE  SHOE  RORIXSON. 


23 


Ilowsever,  1  was  going  on  to  tell  you,  Colonel  Pinckney  put  a  stop 
to  all  this  parleying  with  our  poor  fellows;  and  knowing,  major, 
that  you  was  likely  to  be  coming  this  way,  he  axed  me  if  I  thought 
I  could  give  the  guard  the  slip,  and  make  off  with  a  letter  to  meet 
you.  Well,  I  studied  over  the  thing  for  a  while,  and  then  told  him 
a  neck  was  but  a  neck  any  how,  and  that  I  could  try  ;  and  so,  when 
his  letter  was  ready,  he  gave  it  to  me,  telling  me  to  hide  it  so  that, 
if  I  was  sarched,  it  couldn’t  be  found  on  my  person.  Do  you  see 
that  foot  ?”  added  Horse  Shoe,  smiling,  “  it  isn’t  so  small  but  that  I 
could  put  a  letter  between  the  inside  sole  and  the  out,  longways,  or 
even  crossways,  for  the  matter  of  that,  and  that,  without  so  much  as 
turning  down  a  corner.  Correspondent  and  accordingly  I  stitched 
it  in.  The  colonel  then  told  me  to  watch  my  chance  and  make  off 
to  you  in  the  Jarseys,  as  fast  as  I  could.  He  told  me,  besides,  that 
I  was  to  stay  with  you,  because  you  was  likely  to  have  business  for 
me  to  do.” 

“  That’s  true,  good  sergeant.” 

“There  came  on  a  darkish,  drizzly  evening;  and  a  little  before 
roll  call,  at  sun  set,  I  borrowed  an  old  forage  cloak  from  Corporal 
Green — you  moughthave  remembered  him — and  out  I  went  towards 
the  lines,  and  sauntered  along  the  edge  of  the  town,  till  I  came  to 
one  of  your  pipe-smoking,  gin-drinking  Hessians,  keeping  sentry 
near  the  road  that  leads  out  towards  Ashley  ferry  : — a  fellow  that 
had  no  more  watch  in  him — bless  your  soul ! — as  these  Dutchmen 
hav’n’t — than  a  duck  on  a  rainy  day.  So,  said  I,  coming  up  boldly 
to  him,  ‘Hans,  wie  gehet  es’ — ‘  Geh  zum  Teufel,’  says  he,  laughing 
— for  he  knowed  me.  That  was  all  the  Dutch  I  could  speak,  except 
I  was  able  to  say  it  was  going  to  rain,  so  I  told  him — ‘  Es  will  reg- 
nen  ’ — which  he  knowed  as  well  as  I  did,  for  it  was  raining  all  the 
time.  I  had  a  little  more  palaver  with  Hans,  and,  at  last,  he  got 
up  on  his  feet  and  set  to  walking  up  and  down.  By  this  time  the 
drums  beat  for  evening  quarters,  and  I  bid  Hans  good  night ;  but, 
instead  of  going  away,  I  squatted  behind  the  Dutchman’s  sentry 
box; — and,  presently,  the  rain  came  down  by  the  bucket  full;  it 
got  very  dark  and  Hans  was  snug  undej«:cover.  The  grand  rounds 
was  coming ;  I  could  hear  the  trapip  of  feet,  and  a?  no  time  was  to 
be  lost,  I  made  a  long  step  and  a  short  story  of  it,  by  just  slipping 
over  the  lines  and  setting  out  to  seek  ray  fortune.” 


24 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Well  done,  sergeant!  You  were  ever  good  at  these  pranks.” 

“  But  that  wasn’t  all,”  continued  Robinson.  “  As  the  prime  file 
leader  of  mischief  would  have  it,  outside  of  the  lines  I  meets  a  cart 
witli  a  man  to  drive  it,  and  two  soldiers  on  foot,  by  way  of  guard. 

“  The  first  I  was  aware  of  it,  was  a  hallo,  and  then  a  bagnet  to  my 
breast.  I  didn’t  ask  for  countersigns,  for  I  didn’t  mean  to  trade  in 
words  that  night;  but,  just  seizing  hold  of  the  muzzle  of  the  piece, 
I  twisted  it  out  of  the  fellow’s  hand,  and  made  him  a  present  of  the 
butt-end  across  his  pate.  I  didn’t  want  to  hurt  him,  you  see,  for  it 
wa’n’t  his  fault  that  he  stopped  me.  A  back-hander  brought  down 
the  other,  and  the  third  man  drove  off  his  cart,  as  if  he  had  some 
suspicion  that  his  comrades  were  on  their  backs  in  the  mud.  I 
didn’t  mean  to  trouble  a  peaceable  man  with  my  compliments,  but 
on  the  contrary,  as  the  preacher  says,  I  went  on  my  way  rejoicing.” 

“You  were  very  considerate,  sergeant;  I  entirely  approve  of  your 
moderation.  As  you  are  a  brave  man,  and  have  a  natural  liking  for 
danger,  this  was  a  night  that,  doubtless,  aflforded  you  great  satisfac¬ 
tion.” 

“  When  danger  stares  you  in  the  face,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  “  the 
best  way  is  not  to  see  it.  It  is  only  in  not  seeing  of  it,  that  a  brave 
man  differs  from  a  coward  :  that’s  my  opinion.  Well,  after  that  I 
had  a  hard  time  of  it.  I  was  afraid  to  keep  up  the  Neck  road,  upon 
account  of  the  sodgers  that  was  upon  it;  so  I  determined  to  ci'oss 
the  Ashley,  and  make  for  the  Orangeburg  district.  When  I  came 
to  the  ferry,  I  was  a  little  dubious  about  taking  one  of  the  skiffs  that 
was  hauled  up,  for  fear  of  making  a  noise;  so  I  slipped  off  my  shoe 
that  had  your  letter,  and  put  it  betwixt  my  teeth  and  swum  the 
river.  I  must  have  made  some  splashing  in  the  water — although  I 
tided  to  mufHe  my  oars,  too,  for  first,  I  heard  a  challenge  from  the 
ferry-house,  and  then  the  crack  of  a  musket :  but  it  was  so  dark 
you  couldn’t  see  an  egg  on  your  own  nose.  There  was  a  little  flus¬ 
tering  of  lights  on  the  shore,  and  a  turnout  of  the  guard,  may  be ; 
but,  I  suppose,  they  thought  it  was  a  sturgeon,  or  some  such  beast, 
and  so  made  no  more  of  it ;  and  I  got  safe  to  the  other  bank.” 

“Faithfully  and  bravely,  sergeant!” 

“  For  the  first  three  or  four  days  the  chances  were  all  against  me. 
The  whole  country  was  full  of  tones,  and  it  wasn’t  safe  to  meet  a 
man  on  the  road:  you  couldn’t  tell  whether  he  was  friend  or  enemy. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


25 


I  (lurstri’t  show  my  face  in  day-time  at  all,  but  lay  close  in  the 
swamps ;  and  when  it  began  to  grow  dark,  I  stole  out,  like  a  wolf, 
and  travelled  across  the  fields,  and  along  the  byways.” 

“You  had  a  good  stomach  to  bear  it,  sergeant.” 

“  A  good  stomach  enough,  but  not  much  in  it.  I’ll  tell  you  ano¬ 
ther  observation  I  made  ;  when  a  man  travels  all  night  long  on  an 
empty  stomach,  he  ought  either  to  fill  it  next  morning  or  make  it 
smaller.” 

“  And  how  is  that  to  be  managed,  friend  Horse  Shoe  ?” 

“  Indian  fashion,”  replied  the  sergeant.  “  Buckle  your  belt  a  little 
tighter  every  two  or  three  hours.  A  man  may  shrivel  his  guts  up.-- 
to  the  size  of  a  pipe  stem.  But  I  found  a  better  way  to  get  along 
than  by  taking  in  my  belt” - 

“  Now,  for  another  stratagem !” 

“  I  commonly,  about  dark,  crept  as  near  to  a  farm  house  as  I 
mought  venture  to  go  ;  and,  putting  on  a  poor  mouth,  told  the  folks 
I  had  a  touch  of  the  small-pox,  and  was  dying  for  a  little  food. 
They  were  Christians  enough  to  give  me  a  dish  of  bread  and  ■ — 
milk,  or  something  of  that  sort,  and  cowards  enough  to  keep  so^ 
much  out  of  the  way,  as  not  to  get  a  chance  to  look  me  in  the  fiice.  -  - 
They  laid  provisions  on  the  ground,  and  then  walked  awaj^  while  I 
came  up  to  get  them.  Though  I  didn’t  think  much  of  the  fashion 
I  was  waited  on,  and  had  sometimes  to  quarrel  with  a  bull-dog  for 
my  supper,  I  don’t  believe  I  ever  ate  with  a  better  appetite  in  my 
life.  The  first  bread  of  freedom,  no  matter  how  coarse,  a  man  eats 
after  his  escape  from  prison,  is  the  sweetest  morsel  in  nature.  And 
I  do  think  it  is  a  little  jileasanter  when  he  eats  it  at  the  risk  of  his 
life.” 

Butler  nodded  his  head.  -.r — 

“Well,  after  this,”  continued  Horse  ^hoe,  “I  had  like  to  have  lost 
all  by  another  mishap.  My  course  was  for  the  upper  country, 
because  the  nearer  I  got  to  my  own  home  the  better  I  was  acquaint' 
with  the  people.  That  scrummaging  character,  Tarleton,  you  ma) 
have  hearn,  scampered  off,  as  soon  as  ever  Charlestown  was  taken, 
after  Colonel  Abraham  Buford,  who  w:is  on  his  way  down  to  the  city 
when  the  news  was  foteh  him  of  our  surrender.  Buford  accoi  dingly 
came  to  the  right  about,  to  get  out  of  harm’s  way  as  fast  as  he  could, 
and  Tarleton  followed  close  on  his  heels.  Think  of  that  devil,  major, 

2 


26 


HOBSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


trying  to  catch  a  man  a  hundred  miles  away!  It  was  a  brazen 
hearted  thing !  considering,  besides,  that  Buford  had  a  good  regi¬ 
ment  with  him.  When  nobody  thought  it  anything  more  than  a 
brag,  sure  enough,  he  ovei’hauls  Buford  yonder  at  the  Waxhaws — 
onawares,  you  may  say — and  there  he  tore  him  all  to  pieces.  They 
say  it  was  a  bloody  cruel  sight,  to  see  how  these  English  troopers 
did  mangle  the  poor  fellows.  I  doubt  there  wasn’t  fair  play.  But, 
major,  that  Tarleton  rides  well  and  is  a  proper  soldier,  take  him  man 
to  man.  It  so  happened  that  as  I  was  making  along  towards 
Catawba,  who  should  I  come  plump  upon,  but  Tarleton  and  his  lads, 
with  their  prisonei’s,  all  halting  beside  a  little  run  to  get  water  !” 

“Again  in  trouble,  sergeant!  Truly  you  have  had  full  measure 
of  adventures  !’’ 

“  I  was  pretty  near  nonplushed,  major,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  with  a 
hroad  laugh,  “but  I  thought  of  a  stratagem.  I  let  fall  my  under 
jaw,  and  sot  my  eyes  as  wild  as  a  madman,  and  twisted  my  whole 
face  out  of  joint — and  began  to  clap  my  hands,  and  hurra  for  the 
red  coats,  like  a  natural  fool.  So,  when  Tarleton  and  two  or  three 
of  his  people  came  to  take  notice  of  me,  they  put  me  down  for  a 
poor  idiot  that  had  been  turned  adrift.” 

“  Did  they  hold  any  discourse  with  you  ?” 

“  A  good  deal ;  and,  just  to  try  me,  they  flogged  me  with  the  flats 
of  their  swords ;  but  I  laughed  and  made  merry  when  they  hurt  me 
v/orst,  and  told  them  I  thanked  them  for  their  politeness.  There 
•were  some  of  our  people  amongst  the  prisoners,  that  I  knew, 
and  I  was  mortally  afeard  they  would  let  on,  but  they  didn’t. 
Especially,  there  was  Seth  Cuthbert,  from  Tryon,  who  had  both  of 
his  hands  chopped  off  in  the  fray  at  the  Waxhaws;  he  was  riding 
double  behind  a  trooper,  and  he  held  up  the  stumps  just  to  let  me 
see  how  barbarously  he  was^mangled.  I  was  dubious  they  w'ould 
see  that  he  knowed  me,  but  he  took  care  of  that.  Bless  your  soul, 
major !  he  saw  my  drift  in  the  first  shot  of  'his  eye.  Thinking  that 
they  mought  take  it  into  their  noddles  to  carry  me  along  with  them 
oack,  I  played  the  quarest  trick  that  I  suppose  ever  a  man  thought 
of;  it  makes  me  laugh  now  to  tell  it.  I  made  a  spring  that  fetched 
me  right  upon  the  crupper  of  Colonel  Tarleton’s  horee,  which  sot  him 
to  kicking  and  flirting  at  a  merry  rate ;  and,  whilst  the  creature  was 
floundering  as  if  a  hornet  had  stung  him,  I  took  the  colonel’s  cap 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSOH. 


2Y 

and  put  it  upon  my  own  head,  and  gave  him  mine.  And  after  I  had 
vagaried  in  this  sort  of  way  for  a  little  while,  I  let  the  horse  fling 
me  on  the  ground.  You  would  have  thought  the  devils  would  have 
died  a  laughing.  And  the  colonel  himself,  altliough  at  iirst  he  was 
very  angry,  couldn’t  help  laughing  likewise.  lie  said  that  I  was  as 
strange  a  fool  as  he  ever  saw,  and  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  hurt 
me.  So  he  threw  me  a  shilling,  and,  whilst  they  were  all  in  good 
humor,  I  trudged  away.” 

“  It  was  a  bold  e.vperiment,  and  might  be  practised  a  thousand 
times  without  success.  If  I  did  not  know  you,  Robinson,  to  be  a 
man  of  truth,  as  well  as  courage,  I  should  scarce  believe  this  tale. 

If  any  one,  hereafter,  should  tell  your  story,  he  will  be  accounted  a 
fiction-monger.” 

“  I  do  not  boast.  Major  Butler  ;  and,  as  to  my  story,  I  care  veiy 
little  who  tells  it.  Every  trick  is  good  in  war.  I  can  change  my 
face  and  voice  both,  so  that  my  best  friends  shouldn’t  know  me : 
and,  in  these  times,  I  am  willing  to  change  every  thing  but  my 
coat,  and  even  that,  if  I  have  a  witness  to  my  heart,  and  it  will 
serve  a  turn  to  help  the  country.  Am  I  not  right 

“  No  man  ever  blames  another  for  that,  sergeant,  and  if  ever  you 
should  be  put  to  the  trial,  you  will  find  friends  enough  to  vouch  for 
your  honesty.” 

“  When  I  got  away  from  Tarleton  it  wasn’t  long  before  I  reached 
my  own  cabin.  There  I  mustered  my  hoise  and  gun,  and  some 
decent  clothes  ;  and  after  a  good  sleep,  and  a  belly  full  of  food,  I  .. 
started  for  the  north,  as  fast  as  I  could,  with  my  letter.  I  put  it 
into  your  own  hands,  and  you  know  the  rest.” 

“This  will  be  a  good  tale  for  a  winter  night,”  said  Butler,  “to  be 
told  hereafter,  in  a  snug  chimney  corner,  to  your  wife  and  children, 
when  peace,  as  I  trust  it  may,  will  make  you  happy  in  the  possession 
of  both.  Your  embassy  has  had  marvellous  good  luck  so  far.  I 
hope  it  may  prove  a  happy  omen  for  our  future  enterprise.  Now  it 
is  my  turn,  Galbraith,  to  tell  you  something  of  our  plans.  Colonel 
Pinckney  has  apprised  me  of  the  state  of  things  in  the  ujiper 
countiy.  Our  good  friend  Clarke  there  meditates  an  attempt  to 
regain  Augusta  and  Ninety-six ;  and  we  have  reason  to  believe  that 
some  levies  will  be  made  by  our  confederates  in  Virginia  and  else¬ 
where.  My  business  is  to  co-operate  in  this  undertaking ;  and  as  it 


28  HORSE  SHOE  R  0  B  I  IT  S  O  N  . 

was  essential  I  should  have  the  guidance  of  some  man  acquainted 
with  that  country — some  good  soldier,  true  and  trusty — the  colonel 
has  selected  you  to  accompany  me.  These  red  coats  have  already 
got  possession  of  all  the  strongholds ;  and  the  tories,  you  know, 
swarm'  in  the  country,  like  the  locusts  of  Egypt.  I  stand  in  need, 
sergeant,  of  a  friend  with  a  discreet  head  and  a  strong  arm.  I 
could  not  have  picked  out  of  the  army  a  better  man  than  Sergeant 
Galbraith  Robinson.  Besides,  Horse  Shoe,”  he  added,  putting  his 
hand  gently  upon  the  sergeant’s  shoulder,  “  old  acquaintance  has 
bred  an  affection  between  us.” 

“  I  am  a  man  that  can  eat  my  allowance,  major,”  said  Robinson, 
with  an  awkward  diffidence  at  hearing  the  encomium  just  passed 
upon  him,  “  and  that’s  a  matter  that  doesn’t  turn  to  much  profit 
in  an  empty  country.  But  I  think  I  may  make  bold  to  promise, 
that  you  are  not  like  to  suffer,  if  a  word  or  a  blow  from  me  would 
do  you  any  good.” 

“  Your  belt  may  be  serviceable  in  two  ways  in  this  expedition. 
Horse  Shoe  ;  it  may  be  buckled  closer  in  scant  times,  and  will 
carry  a  sword  in  dangerous  ones.” 

“  May  I  ask,  major,”  inquired  Horse  Shoe,  “  since  you  have 
got  to  talking  of  our  business,  what  has  brought  us  so  high  up  the 
country,  along  here  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  the  lower  road  would 
have  been  nearer.” 

“  Suppose  I  say,  Galbraith,”  replied  Butler,  with  animation, 
“  that  there  is  a  bird  nestles  in  these  woods,  I  was  fond  of  hearing 
sing,  would  it  be  unsoldierlike,  think  you,  to  make  a  harder  ride 
and  a  larger  circuit  for  that  gratification  ?” 

“  Oh !  I  understand,  major,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  laughing, 
“  whether  it  be  peace  or  whether  it  be  war,  these  women  keep  the 
upper  hand  of  us  men.  For  my  part,  I  think  it’s  more  natural  to 
think  of  them  in  war  than  in  peace.  For,  you  see,  the  creatures 
are  so  helpless,  that  if  a  man  don’t  take  care  of  them,  who 
would  ?  And  then,  when  a  wmman’s  frightened,  as  she  must  be 
in  these  times,  she  clings  so  naturally  to  a  man !  It  stands  to 
reason  !” 

“You  will  keep  my  counsel,  Galbraith,”  interrupted  Butler. 
“  I  have  a  reason  which,  perhaps,  you  may  know  by  and  by,  why 
you  should  not  speak  of  any  thing  you  may  see  or  hear.  And  now, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


29 


as  we  have  spent  a  good  hour  in  refreshment,  sergeant,  make  our 
hoi'ses  ready.  We’ll  take  the  road  again.” 

Robinson  promised  caution  in  all  matters  that  might  be  com¬ 
mitted  to  his  charge,  and  now  set  himself  about  saddling  the  horses  for 
the  journey.  Whilst  he  was  engaged  in  this  occupation,  Butler  was 
startled  to  hear  the  sergeant  abruptly  cry  out — “  You  devil,  Captain 
Peter  Clinch  !  what  are  you  about  ?”  and,  looking  hastily  around, 
saw  no  one  but  the  trusty  squire  himself,  who  was  now  sedately  intent 
upon  thrusting  the  bit  into  his  horse’s  mouth, — a  liberty  which  the 
animal  seemed  to  resent  by  sundry  manifestations  of  waywardness. 

“  To  whom  are  you  talking,  Galbraith  ?” 

“  Only  to  this  here  contrary,  obstropolous  beast,  major.”  —  - 

“  What  name  did  you  call  him  by  ?”  inquired  Butler. 

“  Ha,  ha,  ha !  was  it  that  you  was  listening  too  ?”  said  Horse 
Shoe.  “  I  have  christened  him  Captain  Peter — sometimes  Captain 
Peter  Clinch.  I’ll  tell  you  why.  I  am  a  little  malicious  touching 
the  name  of  my  horse.  After  the  surrender  of  Charlestown,  our 
regiment  was  put  in  the  charge  of  a  provost  marshal,  by  the  name 
of  Captain  Clinch,  and  his  first  name  was  Peter.  He  was  a  rough, 
ugly,  wiry-haired  fellow,  with  no  better  bowels  than  a  barrel  of 
vinegar.  He  gave  us  all  sorts  of  ill  usage,  knowing  that  we  wa’n’t 
allowed  to  give  him  the  kind  of  payment  that  such  an  oncomfort- 
able  fellow  desarved  to  get.  If  ever  I  had  met  him  again,  major, 
setters  parhus — as  Lieutenant  Hopkins  used  to  say — which  is  lingo, 
I  take  it,  for  a  fair  field,  I  would’a  cudgelled  his  pate  for  him,  to  the 
satisfaction  of  all  good  fellows.  Well,  when  I  got  home,  I  gave  his 
name  to  my  beast,  just  for  the  pleasure  of  thinking  of  that  hang- 
gallows  thief,  every  time  I  had  occasion  to  give  the  creetur  a  dig  in 
the  ribs,  or  lay  a  blow  across  his  withers !  And  yet  he  is  a  most 
an  excellent  horse,  major,  and  a  hundred  times  more  of  a  gentleman 
than  his  namesake, — though  he  is  a  little  hard-headed  too — but 
that  he  larnt  from  me.  It  really  seems  to  me  that  the  dumb  beast 
thinks  his  name  a  disgrace,  as  he  has  good  right,  but  has  got  used 
to  it.  And,  besides,  I  hear  that  the  cross-grained,  growling  dog  of” 
a  captain  has  been  killed  in  a  scuffle  since  I  left  Charlestown,  so 
now  I  consider  my  horse  a  sort  of  tombstone  with  the  ugly  sinner’s'’ 
name  on  it ;  and  as  I  straddle  it  every  day  you  see,  that’s  another 
satisfaction.” 


80 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Well,  sergeant,  there  are  few  men  enjoy  their  revenge  more 
good-humoredly  than  you.  So,  come,  straddle  your  tombstone 
again,  and  make  the  bones  beneath  it  jog.” 

lu  good  glee,  our  travellers  now  betook  themselves  once  more  to 
the  road. 


CHAPTER  HI. 


AN  INCIDENT  THAT  SAVORS  OF  ROMANCE. 

By  the  time  the  sun  had  hillen  to  the  level  of  the  summits  of  the 
Blue  Ridge,  Butler  and  Robinson  had  progressed  so  far  in  their 
journey,  as  to  find  themselves  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Rockfish  river — 
a  rapid  mountain  stream,  that  traverses  the  southern  confine  of 
Albemarle,  and  which,  at  that  period,  separated  this  county  from 
Amherst.  Their  path  had  led  them,  by  a  short  cii-cuit,  out  of  the 
ravine  of  Cove  creek,  along  upon  the  ridges  of  the  neighboring 
hills ;  and  they  were  now  descending  from  this  elevation,  into  the 
valley  of  the  Rockfish,  near  to  the  point  where  the  Cove  creek  forms 
its  junction  with  this  river.  The  hill  was  covered  with  a  stately 
forest,  and  a  broad,  winding  road  had  been  cut  down  the  steep  side, 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  present  a  high  bank  on  one  hand,  and  an 
abrupt  sheer  descent  on  the  other.  From  this  road  might  be  seen, 
at  intervals,  glimmering  through  the  screen  of  underwood,  the 
waters  of  the  small  river  below ;  whilst,  at  the  same  time,  the 
circuitous  course  of  the  descending  track  left  but  few  paces  of  its 
length  visible  from  any  one  point,  except  where,  now  and  then,  it 
came  boldly  forth  to  the  verge  of  some  wild  crag,  from  which 
glimpses  were  to  be  obtained  of  its  frequent  traverses  towards  the 
deep  and  romantic  dell  that  received  the  mingled  tribute  of  the  two 

our  travellers  journeyed  downward,  their  attention  was 
awakened  by  the  cry  of  hounds  in  pursuit  of  game.  These  sounds 
came  from  the  wood  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  above  them  ;  and  the 
clamorous  earnestness  with  which  they  assailed  the  ear,  and  roused 
the  far  echo  of  the  highlands,  showed  the  object  of  chase  to  have 
been  suddenly  surprised  and  hotly  followed.  The  outcry  was  heard, 

for  some  moments,  pursuing  a  direction  towards  the  river,  when, 

•1 


streams^ 
Here,  as 


32 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


suddenly  from  the  midst  of  the  forest,  the  sharp  twang  of  a  rifle-shot 
showed  that  some  hunter  was  on  the  watch  to  profit  by  the  discovery 
of  the  dogs. 

Robinson,  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  report,  urged  his  lioi-se  forward 
with  speed,  to  the  first  turn  of  the  road  below ;  dismounted,  and, 
throwing  his  rifle  into  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  stood  ready  to  give 
his  fire  wherever  he  might  find  occasion.  Butler  followed,  and 
reined  up  close  beside  his  companion. 

“  There  is  game  afoot,”  said  Galbraith,  “  and  if  that  shot  has  not 
flone  its  business,  it  may  be  my  turn  to  try  a  hand.”  ' 

These  words  were  hardly  spoken,  Avhen  a  wounded  buck  rushed 
to  the  brink  of  the  bank,  some  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  above  the  heads 
of  the  travellers,  and  regardless  of  the  presence  of  enemies,' made  one 
frantic  bound  forward  into  the  air,  and  fell  dead  almost  at  Robinson’s 
feet.  So  effectually  had  the  work  of  death  been  done  upon  the  poor 
animal,  that  he  seemed  to  have  expired,  in  the  convulsion  of  this 
last  leap,  before  he  reached  the  ground  ;  his  antlers  were  driven  into 
the  clay  ;  his  eyes  were  fixed,  and  not  a  struggle  followed. 

“  It  was  a  home-shot  that  brought  this  poor  fugitive  to  the  earth,” 
said  Butler,  as  he  stood  gazing  at  the  piteous  spectacle  before  him, 
“  and  sped  by  a  practised  hand.” 

“  I  don’t  count  him  a  good  man,  major,”  said  Galbraith,  with 
professional  indifference,  “  who  would  mangle  his  meat  by  random 
firing.  Now,  this  buck  ■was  taken  sideways,  as  he  leaped  above  the 
tops  of  the  bushes,  which  is  the  ticklishest  of  all  the  ways  of  shoot¬ 
ing  a  deer.  The  man  that  plucked.,  this  fellow.  I’ll  warrant,  can 
plant  his  ball  just  where  he  likes  :  right  under  the  arm  is  the  place 
for  certainty  ;  and  the  thing  couldn’t  have  been  prettier  done  if  the 
man  J^ad  had  a  rest  and  a  standing  shot.” 

During  this  short  interval,  the  hounds  had  arrived  on  the  spot 
where  the  buck  lay  bleeding,  and  these,  after  a  few  minutes,  were 
followed  by  two  huntem  of  vei'y  dissimilar  appearance,  who  came 
on  foot,  slowly  leading  their  horses  up  the  hill. 

The  first  was  a  tall,  gaunt  woodman,  of  a  sallow  complexion,  jet 
black  eyes,  and  round  head  of  smooth  black  hair.  His  dress  was 
simply  a  coarse  linen  shirt  and  trowsers,  the  heat  of  the  day  being 
such  as  to  allow  him  to  dispense  coat  and  waistcoat.  He 
carried,  in  one  hand,  a  battered  straw  hat,  and  in  the  other,  trailed 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


33 


a  long  rifle.  His  feet  were  covered  with  a  pair  of  moccasins  of 
brown  leather,  and  the  ordinary  hunting  equipments  were  suspended 
about  his  person. 

The  second  was  a  youth  apparently  about  sixteen,  dressed  in  a 
suit  of  green  summer-cloth,  neatly  and  fancifully  adapted  to  his 
figui'e,  which  was  graceful  and  boyish.  The  jacket  was  short,  and 
gathered  into  a  small  skirt  behind  ;  and  both  this  and  the  panta¬ 
loons  were  garnished  with  a  profusion  of  black  cord  and  small  black 
buttons.  A  highly  polished  leather  belt  was  buckled  around  his 
Avaist ;  a  cap  of  green  cloth  rested,  somewhat  conceitedly,  amongst 
the  rich  locks  of  a  head  of  light,  curly  hair  that  fell,  with  girlish 
beauty,  over  a  fair  brow,  and  gave  softness  to  a  countenance  of  pure 
white  and  red  ;  and  a  neat  foot  shorved  to  advantage  in  a  laced 
boot.  The  whole  appearance  of  the  youth  was  of  one  of  an  amiable 
and  docile  bearing,  and  the  small  rifle  or  carbine  which  he  bore  in 
his  hand,  as  well  as  the  dainty  accoutrements  that  belonged  to  it, 
amongst  which  was  a  diminutive  bugle,  looked  more  like  the  toys 
of  a  pampered  boy,  than  any  apparatus  of  service.  _ 

No  sooner  had  these  two  approached  near  enough  to  Butler  and 
his  attendant  for  recognition,  than  the  youth,  quitting  the  hold  of 
his  hdtse,  sprang  forward  with  a  joyous  alacrity  and  seized  Butler 
by  the  hand. 

“  Captain  Butler,”  he  cried  with  great  animation,  “  how  glad  I 
am  you  have  come  !  And  how  fortunate  it  is  that  I  should  meet 
you !  Get  down  from  your  horse,  I  have  something  to  tell  you. 
Here,  Stephen  Foster,  take  this  gentleman’s  horse.” 

“  You  are  a  fine  fellow,  Harry,”  said  Butler,  dismounting.  “  That 
smiling  face  of  yours  is  full  of  pleasant  news ;  it  assures  me  that  all 
are  well  at  the  Hove  Cote.”  Then  having  given  his  horse  in  charge 
to  Robinson,  and  walked  a  few  paces  apart  with  his  young^i'iend, 
he  enquired,  in  a  low  and  anxious  tone,  “  Mildred,  my  dear  Heniy, 
Avhat  of  your  sister  Mildred  ?  Has  she  received  my  letter  ?  Does 
she  expect  me  ?  Is  your  father — ” 

“  Now,  captain,”  interrupted  the  other — “but  heigh!  don’t  the 
newspapers  say  you  are  brevetted  ?  I  am  a  pretty  fallow  to  forget 
that!  Well  then.  Major  Butler,  let  me  answer  (me  question  at  a 
time.  In  the  first  place,  sister  Mildred  is  as  rvell  as  any  girl  can  be, 
that  has  a  whole  bushel  of  crosses  to  keep  her  out  of  spirits.  Poor 


84 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


tiling,  she  frets  so,  about  you  and  my  father.  In  the  second  place, 
she  received  your  letter  a  week  ago,  and  has  had  me  patrolling  this 
ridge  every  day  since,  just  to  keep  a  look-out  for  you  ;  and,  for  the 
sake  of  company,  I  have  had  Stephen  Foster  hunting  here  all  the 
time — more  for  an  excuse  than  anything  else,  because  on  this  side 
of  the  river  the  drives  are  not  the  best  for  deer — a  man  might  be 
here  a  fortnight  and  not  get  a  shot.  Sister  Mildred  wanted  me,  if 
I  should  see  you  fii'st,  just  to  whisper  to  you  that  it  is  impossible  to 
do  anything  with  my  father,  especially  at  this  time,  for  he  has  one 
of  these  English  officei's  staying  at  the  Dove  Cote  now,  who,  I  am 
afraid,  and  so  is  sister  Mildred,  has  come  to  do  some  mischief. 
Mildred  says  I  must  make  some  appointment  with  you  to  see  her 
privately.  I  thought  of  Mrs.  Dimock’s,  but  this  Englishman  has  a 
servant  staying  over  there,  and  may  be  it  wouldn’t  do.  So,  major, 
you  will  have  to  ride  down  to  the  big  chestnut,  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  just  under  the  rock  that  we  call  the  Fawn’s  Tower — you  know 
where  that  is  ?  it  isn’t  more  than  two  miles  from  here.” 

“I  know  it  well,  Henry,  I  will  wait  there  patiently,”  replied 
Butler,  as  he  now  returned  to  his  horse. 

“  Haven’t  we  been  in  luck,”  said  Henry,  “  to  get  so  fine  a  buck 
at  last  ?  This  fellow  has  eight  branches.  It  is  Stephen’s  rifle  that 
has  done  it.” 

The  woodman,  during  this  convereation,  had  taken  possession  of 
his  spoil,  and  was  now  busily  engaged  with  his  knife  in  cutting  open 
and  preparing  the  animal  for  transportation,  according  to  the  usages 
of  woodcraft,  whilst  Robinson  stood  by,  admiring  the  dexterity  with 
which  this  office  was  performed.  When  the  buck  was,  at  last, 
thrown  by  Stephen  across  his  horse,  Henry  gave  him  orders  to  ride- 
forward. 

“  You  will  carry  our  game  to  your  own  house,  Stephen ;  and 
don’t  forget,  to-morrow,  to  let  us  have  the  saddle  at  the  Dove  Cote. 
And  Stephen,  you  need  not  say  that  we  have  found  any  acquaint¬ 
ances  upon  the  road,  you  understand  !” 

The  man  bowed  his  head,  in  token  of  obedience,  and  getting  upon 
his  long-backed  steed,  behind  the  buck,  was  soon  lost  to  view  in  the 
windings  of  the  hill. 

“  Sister  Mildred  is  sometimes  downright  melancholy,”  said  the 
young  hunter,  after  he  had  remounted,  and  now  rode  beside  Butler. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


35 


“  She  is  troubled  about  you,  and  is  always  telling  me  of  some 
unpleasant  dream.  I  almost  think  she  is  over-fanciful ;  and  then  she 
reads  everything  about  the  army,  and  talks  almost  like  a  man  about 
soldiering.  Do  you  know  she  is  making  a  soldier  of  me  ?  I  am 
constantly  reading  military  books,  and  practising  drill,  and  laying 
out  fortifications,  just  as  if  I  was  going  into  camp.  My  fixther 
doesn’t  know  a  word  of  it ;  his  time  is  taken  up  with  these  English 
officers,  writing  to  them,  and  every  now  and  then  there  are  some 
of  them  at  our  house.  Mildred  knows  them — a  famous  spy  she  - 
would  make !  Isn’t  she  an  excellent  girl.  Major  Butler  ?” 

“You  and  I  should  guard  her,  Henry,  with  more  care  than  we, 
guard  our  lives,”  replied  Butler,  with  a  serious  emphasis. 

“  I  hope,”  returned  Henry,  “  she  will  be  in  better  spirits  after  she 
sees  you.” 

“  I  would  to  heaven,”  said  Butler,  “  that  we  all  had  more  reason 
to  be  of  good  cheer,  than  we  are  likely  to  have.  It  is  as  cloudy  a 
day,  Henry,  as  you  may  ever  behold  again,  should  you  live,  as  I 
pray  you  may,  to  the  ripest  old  age.” 

Henry  looked  up  towards  the  west. 

“  There  are  clouds  upon  the  sky,”  he  said,  “  and  the  sun  has 
dropped  below  them  ;  but  there  is  a  streak  of  yellow  light,  near 
to  the  line  of  the  mountain,  that  our  wise  people  say  is  a  sign  that 
the  sun  will  rise  in  beauty  to-morrow.” 

“  There  is  a  light  beyond  the  mountain,”  replied  Butler,  half 
speaking  to  himself,  “  and  it  is  the  best,  the  only  sign  I  see  of  a 
clear  to-morrow.  I  wish,  Henry,  it  were  a  brighter  beam.” 

“Don’t  you  know  Gates  .has  passed  South  ?”  said  Henry,  “  and 
has  some  pretty  fellows  with  him,  they  say.  And  ar’n’t  we  all 
mustering  here — every  man  most?  Ask  Stephen  Foster  what 
I  am  ?” 

“  And  what  will  he  tell  me  ?” 

“Why,  that  I  am  his  deputy -coi’poral  in  the  mounted  riflemen  ; 
Stephen  is  the  lieutenant.” 

“  Oh,  I  crave  your  favor,  brother  officer,  good  master  deputy- 
corporal,  Henry  Lindsay !  and  does  your  father  allow  you  to  ride 
in  the  ranks  of  the  friends  of  liberty  ?” 

“  Sister  Mildred  persuaded  him  that  as  I  am  a  mere  lad,  as  she 
says, — look  at  me,  major, — a  pretty  well  grown  lad,  I  take  it,  there 


36 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


is  no  harm  in  my  playing  soldier.  So  I  ride  always  with  Stephen 
Foster,  and  Mildred  got  me  this  light  rifle-carbine.  Now,  major,  I 
fancy  I  am  pretty  nearly  as  good  a  marksman  as  rides  in  the  corps. 
Who  is  this  with  you  ?”  asked  Henry,  looking  back  at  Kobinson, 
who  loitered  some  distance  in  the  rear  purposely  to  avoid  what 
might  be  deemed  an  intrusion  upon  the  private  conference  of  the 
two  friends. 

“  That  is  a  famous  soldier,  Henry ;  he  was  at  the  siege  of 
Charleston,  and  last  year  at  Savannah.  He  has  had  some  hard 
blows,  and  can  tell  you  more  of  war  than  you  have  ever  read  in  all 
your  studies.” 

“  He  wears  a  curious  uniform,”  said  Henry,  “  for  a  regulai 
soldier.  What  is  his  name  ?” 

“  Galbraith  Robinson — or  Home  Shoe  Robinson — to  give  him  his 
most  popular  distinction.  But  it  would  be  well  to  keep  his  name 
secret.” 

“  I  have  heard  of  Horse  Shoe,”  said  Henry,  with  an  expression 
of  great  interest.  “  So,  this  is  the  man  himself?  From  all  reports 
he  is  as  brave  as” — 

“As  w’ho?”  asked  Butler,  smiling  at  the  tone  of  wonder  with 
which  Henry  spoke. 

“  As  Caius  Marcius  Coriolanus,  who,  I  make  no  doubt,  major,  was 
about  the  bravest  man  in  the  books.” 

Butler  laughed,  and  applauded  the  young  martialist  for  his  dis- 
ciimination. 

The  rokd  from  the  foot  of  the  hill  pursued  the  left,  or  northern, 
bank  of  the  Rockfish,  which  shot  along,  with  a  rapid  flood,  over  the 
rocks  that  lay  scattered  in  its  bed ;  and  the  gush  of  whose  flight  fell 
upon’ the  ear  like  the  loud  tones  of  the  wind.  From  either  margin 
it  was  shaded  by  huge  sycamores,  whose  tops,  at  this  twilight  hour, 
were  marked  in  broad  lines  upon  the  fading  sky,  and  whose  wide 
spreading  boughs  met,  from  side  to  side,  over  the  middle  of  the 
stream,  throwing  a  deeper  night  upon  the  clear  and  transparent 
waters.  The  valley  was  closely  bound  by  high  precipitous  hills, 
whose  steep  crags  and  narrow  passes  seemed  to  echo  and  prolong 
the  gush  of  the  stream,  that  was  now  mingled  with  the  occasional 
lowing  of  cattle,  the  shriek  of  the  owl,  and  the  frequent  hoarse  scream 
of  the  whip-poor-will. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


37 


When  our  pai'ty  had  advanced  about  a  mile  along  this  road, 
Idenry  Lindsay  took  his  bugle  and  blew  a  blast  which  seemed  to 
dance  in  its  reverberations  from  one  side  of  the  river  to  the  other. 

“  Mildred  knows  my  signal,”  said  he  ;  “  that  is  the  scout’s  warn¬ 
ing  :  cavalry  approaches :  dress  your  line  :  prepare  to  receive  a 
general  officer.” 

“  Henry,  pray  drop  your  military  phrase,  and  tell  me  what  this 
means  ?”  said  Butler. 

“  Eide  on  till  you  areive  beneath  the  Fawn’s  Tower.  Wait  for 
me  there.  I  will  give  you  a  signal  when  I  auproach  :  and  trust  me 
for  a  faithful  messenger.  The  river  is  deep  at  the  rock,  but  you  will 
find  a  boat  fastened  to  this  bank.  When  you  hear  my  signal  come 
across.  Mr.  Dimock’s  is  only  another  mile ;  and,  I’ll  warrant,  the 
old  lady  will  make  you  comfortable.  Love,  they  say,  major,”  added 

Henry,  sportively,  “  is  meat  and  drink,  and  a  blanket  to  boot ;  but - 

for  all  that,  Mrs.  Dimock’s  will  not  be  amiss — especially  for  Horse - 

Shoe,  who,  I  take  it,  will  have  the  roughest  time  of  the  party.  If 
love  is  a  blanket,  Mr.  Robinson,”  Henry  continued,  addressing  him¬ 
self  to  that  worthy,  “  it  doesn’t  cover  two,  you  know.” 

“  To  my  thinking,  young  sir,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  with  a  laugh, 

“  it  wouldn’t  fold  so  cleverly  in  a  knapsack.” 

“  Now  dhat  I  have  given  my  ordei’s,”  said  Henry,  “  and  done  my 
duty,"]  I  must  leave  you,  for  my  road  lies  across  the  ford  here. 
Where  are  my  hounds  ?  Hylas,  Bell,  Blanche,  you  puppies,  where 
are  you  ?” 

Here  Henry  blew  another  note,  which  was  immediately  responded 
to  by  the  hounds ;  and,  plunging  into  the  rapid  and  narrow  stream, 
followed  by  the  dogs,  who  swam  close  behind  him,  he  was  seen,  the 
next  moment,  through  the  twilight,  galloping  up  the  opposite  hill, 
as  he  called  out  his  “  good  night”  to  his  friends. 

As  soon  as  Henry  had  disappeared,  the  other  two  pricked  their 
steeds  forward  at  a  faster  pace.  f^Tlie  rapid  flow  of  the  riv^er,  as  they 
advanced  along  its  bank,  began  to  change  into  a  more  quiet  current, 
as  if  some  obstruction  below  had  dammed  up  the  water,  rendering  it 
deeji  and  still.  Upon  this  tranquil  mirror  the  pale  crescent  of  the 
,  moon  and  the  faintly  peeping  shirs  were  reflected ;  and  the  flight  of 
the  fire-fly  was  traced,  by  his  owm  light  and  its  redoubled  image, 
upon  the  same  surface. 


38 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


The  high  toppling  cliff  of  the  Fawn’s  Tower,  that  jutted  forth  hke 
a  parapet  above  the  road,  soon  arrested  the  attention  of  Butler ;  and 
at  its  base  the  great  chestnut  flung  abroad  his  “  vast  magnificence  of 
leaves,”  almost  in  emulation  of  the  aspiring  crag. 

“  We  have  reached  our  appointed  ground,”  said  Butler.  “  I  shall 
want  my  cloak,  Galbraith ;  the  dews  begin  to  chill  my  limbs.” 

They  dismounted,  and  Butler  threw  his  cloak  around  his  shoulders. 
Then,  in  a  thoughtful,  musing  state  of  mind,  he  strolled  slowly  along 
the  bank  of  the  river,  till  he  was  temporarily  lost  to  view  in  the 
thick  shades  and  sombre  scenery  around  him.  Robinson,  having 
secured  the  horses,  sat  himself  down  at  the  foot  of  the  chestnut, 
unwilling  to  interrupt,  by  conversation,  the  anxious  state  of  feeling 
which  he  had  the  shrewdness  to  perceive  predominated  in  Butler’s 
mind. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


A  MEETING  OF  LOVERS - SOME  INSIGHT  INTO  THE  FUTURE. 

The  twilight  had  subsided  and  given  place  to  a  beautiful  night. 
The  moon  had  risen  above  the  tree  tops,  and  now  threw  her  level 
rays  upon  the  broad  face  of  the  massive  pile  of  rocks  forming  the 
Fawn’s  Tower,  and  lit  up  with  a  silvery  splendor,  the  foliage  that 
clothed  the  steep  cliff  and  the  almost  perpendicular  hill  in  its  neigh¬ 
borhood.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  a  line  of  beech  and  syca¬ 
more  trees,  that  grew  almost  at  the  water’s  edge,  threw  a  dark 
shadow  upon  the  bank.  Through  these,  at  intervals,  the  bright 
moonlight  fell  upon  the  earth,  and  upon  the  quiet  and  deep  stream. 
The  woods  w'ere  vocal  with  the  whispering  noises  that  give  discord 
to  the  nights  of  summer ;  yet,  was  there  a  stillness  in  the  scene 
which  invited  grave  thoughts,  and  recalled  to  Butler’s  mind  some 
painful  emotions  that  belonged  to  his  present  condition. 

“  How  complicated  and  severe  are  those  trials” — such  was  the 
current  of  his  meditations — “which  mingle  private  grief  with  public 
misfortune  :  that  double  current  of  ill  which  runs,  on  one  side,  to  the 
overthrow  of  a  nation’s  happiness,  and,  on  the  other,  to  the  prostra¬ 
tion  of  the  individual  who  labom  in  the  cause !  What  a  struggle 
have  I  to  encounter  between  my  duty  to  my  country  and  my  regard 
for  those  tender  relations  that  still  more  engross  my  affections,  nor 
less  earnestly  appeal  to  my  manhood  for  defence !  Upon  the  com¬ 
mon  quarrel  I  have  already  staked  my  life  and  fortune,  and  find 
myself  wrapt  up  in  its  most  perilous  obligations.  That  cause  has 
enough  in  it  to  employ  and  peiqdex  the  strongest  mind,  and  to 
invoke  the  full  devotion  of  a  head  and  heart  that  are  exempt  from 
all  other  solicitude  :  yet  am  I  embarrassed  with  pemonal  cares  that 
are  woven  into  the  very  web  of  my  existence ;  that  have  planted 
themselves  beside  the  fountain  of  my  affections,  and  which,  if  they 


40 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


be  rudely  torn  fi’om  me,  would  leave  behind — but  a  miserable  and 
hopeless  wreck.  My  own  Mildred !  to  what  sad  trials  have  I  brought 
your  affection  ;  and  how  nobly  hast  thou  met  them ! 

“  Man  lives  in  the  contentious  crowd ;  he  struggles  .for  the  palm 
that  thousands  may  award,  and  far-speeding  renown  may  rend  the 
air  with  the  loud  huzza  of  praise.  His  is  the  strife  of  the  theatre 
where  the  world  are  spectators ;  and  multitudes  shall  glorify  his 
success,  or  lament  his  fall,  or  cheer  him  in  the  pangs  of  death.  But 
woman,  gentle,  silent,  sequestered — thy  triumphs  are  only  for  the 
heart  that  loves  thee — thy  deepest  griefs  have  no  comforter  but  the 
secret  communion  of  thine  own  pillow  !” 

Whilst  Butler,  who  had  now  returned  beneath  the  cliff  of  the 
Fawn’s  Tower,  was  absorbed  in  this  silent  musing,  his  comrade  was 
no  less  occupied  with  his  own  cares.  The  sergeant  had  acquired 
much  of  that  forecast,  in  regard  to  small  comforts,  which  becomes, 
in  some  degree,  an  instinct  in  those  whose  profession  exposes  them 
to  the  assaults  of  wind  and  weather.  Tobacco,  in  his  reckoning, 
was  one  of  the  most  indispensable  muniments  of  war ;  and  he  was, 
accordingly,  seldom  without  a  good  stock  of  this  commodity.  A 
corn  cob,  at  any  time,  furnished  him  the  means  of  carving  the  bowl 
of  a  pipe ;  whilst,  in  his  pocket,  he  carried  a  slender  tube  of  reed 
which,  being  united  to  the  bowl,  formed  a  smoking  apparatus,  still 
familiar  to  the  people  of  this  country,  and  which,  to  use  the  sergeant’s 
own  phrase,  “  couldn’t  be  touched  for  sweetness  by  the  best  pipe  the 
very  Queen  of  the  Dutch  herself  ever  smoked  ;  and  that” — he  was 
in  the  habit  of  adding — “  must  be,  as  I  take  it,  about  the  tenderest 
thing  for  a  whiff  that  the  Dutchman  knowed  how  to  make.” 

A  flint  and  steel — part  also  of  his  gear — now  served  to  ignite  his 
tobacco,  and  he  had  been,  for  some  time  past,  sedatel)’’  scanning  the 
length  and  breadth  of  his  own  fancies,  which  were,  doubtless 
rendered  the  more  sublime  by  the  mistiness  which  a  rich  volume  oi 
smoke  had  shed  across  his  vision  and  infused  into  the  atmosphere 
around  his  brain. 

“  Twelve  shillings  and  nine  pence,”  were  the  first  words  which 
became  audible  to  Butler  in  the  depth  of  his  revery.  “  That,  major,’’ 
said  the  sergeant,  who  had  been  rummaging  his  pocket,  and  count 
ing  over  a  handful  of  coin,  “  is  exactly  the  amount  I  have  spent 
since  this  time  last  night.  I  paid  it  to  the  old  lady  of  the  Swan, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


41 


at  Charlottesville,  taking  a  sixpence  for  mending  your  hridle  rein. 
Since  you  must  make  me  paymaster  for  our  march,  I  am  obliged  to 
square  accounts  every  night.  My  noddle  wont  hold  two  days’ 
reckoning.  It  gets  scrimped  and  flustered  with  so  many  number¬ 
ings,  that  I  lose  the  count  clean  out.” 

“  It  is  of  little  consequence,  Galbraith,”  replied  Butler,  seeking  to 
avoid  his  companion’s  interruption. 

“  Squaring  up,  and  smoothing  off,  and  bringing  out  this  and  that 
shilling  straight  to  a  penny,  don’t  come  natui-al  to  me,”  continued 
Kobinson,  too  intent  upon  his  reckoning  to  observe  the  disinclination 
of  Butler  to  a  parley,  “  money  matters  are  not  in  my  line.  I  take 
to  them  as  disunderstandingly  as  Gill  Bentley  did  to  the  company’s 
books,  when  they  made  him  Orderly  on  the  Waccamaw  picquet. 
For  Gill,  in  the  firet  place,  couldn’t  write,  and,  in  the  next  place,  if 
he  could’a  done  that,  he  never  larnt  to  read,  so  you  may  suppose 
what  a  beautiful  puzzleification  he  had  of  it  to  keep  the  guard  roster 
straight.” 

“  Sergeant,  look  if  yonder  boat  is  loose  ;  I  shall  want  it  presently,” 
said  Butler,  still  giving  no  ear  to  his  comrade’s  gossip. 

“  It  is  tied  by  an  easy  knot  to  the  root  of  the  tree,”  said  Robin¬ 
son,  as  he  returned  from  the  examination. 

“  Tlmnk  you,”  added  Butler  with  more  than  usual  abstractedness. 

“  Something,  major,  seems  to  press  upon  your  spirits  to-night,” 
said  the  sergeant,  in  the  kindest  tones  of  inquiry.  “  If  I  could  lend 
a  hand  to  put  any  thing,  that  mought  happen  to  have  got  crooked, 
into  its  right  ])lace  again,  you  kn  ow.  Major  Butler,  I  wouldn’t  be 
slow  to  do  it,  when  you  say  the  word.” 

“  I  would  trust  my  life  to  you,  Galbraith,  sooner  than  to  any 
man  living,”  replied  the  otlier,  with  an  affectionate  emphasis  : — “  But 
you  mistake  me,  I  am  not  heavy  at  heart,  though  a  little  anxious, 
sergeant,  at  what  has  brought  me  here,  comrade,”  he  added  as  ho 
approached  the  sergeant,  upon  whoso  broad  shoulder  he  familiarly 
laid  his  hand,  with  a  smile ;  “  you  will  keep  a  fellow  soldier’s 
counsel  ?” 

“  As  I  keep  my  heart  in  my  body,”  interrupted  Galbraith. 

“  I  am  sure  of  it ;  even  as  you  keep  your  faith  to  your  country, 
my  true  and  worthy  brother,”  added  Ilutler  with  animation,  “  and 
that  is  with  no  less  honesty  than  a  good  man  serves  his  God. 


42 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Then,  Galbraith,  bear  it  in  mind,  I  have  come  here  for  the  sake  of  a 
short  meeting  with  one  that  I  love,  as  you  would  have  a  good  soldier 
love  the  lady  of  his  soul.  You  will  hereafter  speak  of  nothing  that 
may  fall  within  your  notice.  It  concerns  -me  deeply  that  this 
meeting  should  be  secret.” 

“  Major,  I  w'ill  have  neither  eyes  nor  ears,  if  it  consarns  you  to  keep 
any  thing  that  mought  chance  to  come  to  my  knowledge,  pri¬ 
vate.” 

“  It  is  not  for  myself,  sergeant,  I  bespeak  this  caution ;  I  have 
nothing  to  conceal  from  you ;  but  there  is  a  lady  who  is  much 
interested  in  our  circumspection.  I  have  given  you  a  long  and 
solitary  ride  on  her  account,  and  may  hereafter  ask  other  service 
from  you.  You  shall  not  find  it  more  irksome,  Galbraith,  to  stand 
by  a  comrade  in  love,  than  you  have  ever  found  it  in  war,  and  that, 
I  know,  you  think  not  much.” 

“  The  war  comes  naturally  enough  to  my  hand,”  replied  Gal¬ 
braith,  “  but  as  for  the  love  part,  major,  excepting  so  far  as  carrying 
a  message,  or,  in  case  of  a  runaway,  keeping  off  a  gang  of  pesti- 
farious  intermeddlers,  or  watching,  for  a  night  or  so,  under  a  tree, 
or  any  thing,  indeed,  in  the  riding  and  running,  or  watching,  or 
scrimmaging  line — I  say,  excepting  these,  my  sarvice  moughtn’t  turn 
to  much  account.  I  can’t  even  play  a  fiddle  at  a  wedding,  and  I’ve 
not  the  best  tongue  for  making  headway  amongst  the  women. 
Howsomdever,  major,  you  may  set  me  down  for  a  volunteer  on  the 
first  forlorn  hope  you  may  have  occasion  for.” 

“  Mr.  Lindsay  lives  on  the  hill  across  the  river.  There  are  i-easons 
why  I  cannot  go  to  his  house ;  and  his  daughter,  Galbraith,  is  an 
especial  friend  to  us  and  to  our  cause.” 

“  I  begin  to  see  into  it,”  interrupted  the  sergeant,  laughing,  “  you 
have  a  notion  of  showing  the  old  gentleman  the  same  trick  you 
played  off  upon  Lord  Howe’s  provost  marshal,  when  you  was  lieu¬ 
tenant  at  Valley  Forge,  touching  your  stealing  away  his  prisoner. 
Captain  Roberts.  That  was  a  night  affair,  too.  Well,  the  best  wife 
a  man  can  have,  major,  is  the  woman  that  takes  to  him  through 
fire  and  water.  There  was  Colonel  Gardiner,  that  stole  his  wife  just 
in  that  way,  against  all  opposition  of  both  father  and  mother,  and  a 
better  woman  never  stitched  up  a  seam,  to  my  knowledge  and 
belief.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


43 


“  I  have  no  tliouglit  of  such  an  enterprise,  sergeant,”  said  Butler ; 
“  our  pui  pose,  for  the  present,  must  be  confined  to  a  short  visit. 
We  are  houseless  adventurers,  Galbraith,  and  have  little  to  ofier  to 
sweetheart  or  wife  that  might  please  a  woman’s  fancy.” 

“  When  a  woman  loves  a  man,  especially  a  sodger,”  replied  the 
sergeant,  “  she  sets  as  little  store  by  house  and  home  as  the  best  of 
us.  Still,  it  is  a  wise  thing  to  give  the  creatures  the  chance  of 
peace,  before  you  get  to  tangling  them  with  families.  Hark,  I  hear 
something  like  footsteps  on  t’other  side  of  the  river  !  Mister  Henry 
must  be  on  his  march.” 

After  an  interval,  a  lowr  whistle  issued  from  the  opposite  bank,  and, 
in  a  moment,  Butler  was  in  the  skiff,  pushing  his  way  through  the 
sparkling  waters. 

A»  the  small  boat,  in  which  he  stood  upright,  shot  from  the 
bright  moonlight  into  the  shade  of  the  opposite  side,  he  could 
obscurely  discern  Mildred  Lindsay  leaning  on  her  brother’s  arm,  as 
they  both  stood  under  the  thick  foliage  of  a  large  beech.  And 
scarcely  had  the  bow  struck  upon  the  pebbly  margin,  before  he 
bounded  fi’om  it  up  the  bank,  and  was,  in  the  next  instant,  locked 
in  the  embrace  of  one  whose  affection  he  valued  above  all  earthly 
possessions. 

When  that  short  interval  had  passed  away,  in  which  neither  Mil¬ 
dred  nor  Arthur  could  utter  speech  ;  during  which  the  lady  leant 
her  head  upon  her  lover’s  bosom,  in  that  fond  familiarity  which 
plighted  faith  is  allowed  to  justify  in  the  most  modest  maiden,  sob¬ 
bing  the  while  in  the  intensity  of  her  emotions,  she  then  at  last,  as 
she  slowly  regained  her  self-possession,  said,  in  a  soft  and  melancholy 
voice,  in  which  there  was  nevertheless  a  tone  of  playfulness  : 

“I  am  a  foolish  girl,  Arthur.  I  can  boast  like  a  blustering 
coward,  w’hen  there  is  nothing  to  fear ;  and  yet  I  weep,  like  a  true 
woman,  at  the  first  trial  of  my  courage.” 

“  Ah,  my  dear  Mildred,  you  are  a  brave  girl,”  replied  Butler,  as 
he  held  both  of  her  hands  and  looked  fondly  into  her  face,  “  and  a 
true  and  a  tried  girl.  You  have  come  kindly  to  me,  and  evei’,  like  a 
blessed  and  gentle  spirit  of  good,  are  prompt  to  attend  me  through 
every  mischance.  It  is  a  long  and  weary  time,  love,  since  last  we 
met.” 

“  It  is  very,  veiy  long,  Arthur.” 


44 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  And  we  ai-e  still  as  far  off,  Mildred,  from  our  wishes  as  at  first 
we  were.” 

“Even  so,”  said  Mildred  sorrowfully.  “  A  year  of  pain  drags 
heavily  by,  and  brings  no  hope.  Oh,  Arthur,  what  have  I  sufiPered 
in  the  thought  that  your  life  is  so  beset  with  dangers  !  I  muse  upon 
them  with  a  childish  fear,  that  was  not  so  before  our  last  meeting. 
They  rise  to  disturb  my  daily  fancies,  and  night  finds  them  inhabit¬ 
ing  my  pillow.  I  was  so  thankful,  that  you  escaperl  that  dreary 
siege  of  Charleston  !” 

“  Many  a  poor  and  gallant  fellow  soldier  there  bit  his  lip  with  a 
chafed  and  peevish  temper,”  said  Butler ;  “  but  the  day  will  come, 
Mildred,  when  we  may  yet  carry  a  prouder  head  to  the  field  of  om 
country’s  honor.” 

“  And  your  share,”  interrupted  Mildred,  “  will  ever  be  to  march 
in  the  front  rank.  In  spite  of  all  your  perils  past,  your  hard  service, 
w'hich  has  known  no  holiday,  your  fatigues,  that  I  have  sometimes 
feared  would  break  down  your  health,  and  in  spite  too,  of  the 
claims,  Arthur,  that  your  poor  Mildred  has  upon  you,  you  are  even 
now  again  bound  upon  some  bold  adventure,  that  must  separate  us, 
ah,  perhaps,  for  ever !  Our  fate  has  malice  in  it.  Ever  beginning 
some  fresh  exploit !” 

“  You  would  not  have  your  soldier  bear  himself  otherwise  than  as 
a  true  knight,  who  would  win  and  wear  his  lady-love  by  good  set 
blows  w’hen  there  was  need  for  them  ?” 

“  If  I  were  the  genius  that  conjured  up  this  war,  I  would  give 
my  own  true  knight  a  breathing  space.  He  should  pipe  and  dance 
between  whiles,”  replied  Mildred  sportively. 

“  He  that  puts  his  sickle  into  this  field  amongst  the  reapers,”  said 
Butler,  with  a  thoughtful  earnestness,  “  should  not  look  back  from 
his  work.” 

“  Ho,  no,  though  my  heart  break  while  I  say  it — for,  in  truth,  I 
am  very  melancholy,  notwithstanding  I  force  a  beggar’s  smile  upon 
my  cheek ;  no,  I  would  not  have  you  stay  or  stand,  Arthur,  until 
you  have  seen  this  wretched  quarrel  at  an  end.  I  praised  your  first 
resolve — loved  you  for  it — applauded  and  cheered  you  ;  I  will  not 
selfishly  now,  for  the  sake  of  my  weak,  womanish  apprehension,  say 
one  word  to  withhold  your  arm.” 

“  And  you  are  still,”  said  Butler,  “  that  same  resolute  enthusiast 


nORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON 


.45 


that  I  found  in  the  young  and  eloquent  beauty  who  captivated  my 
worthless  heart,  when  the  war  fii'st  drew  the  wild  spirits  of  the 
country  together  under  our  free  banner?” 

“  The  same  foolish,  conceited,  heady,  prattling  truant,  Arthur,  that 
first  took  a  silly  liking  to  your  pompous  strut,  and  made  a  hero  to 
her  imagination  out  of  a  boasting  ensign — the  same  in  all  my  follies, 
and  in  all  my  fiiults — only  altered  in  one  quality.” 

“  And  pray,  what  is  that  one  quality  ?” 

“  I  will  not  toll  you,”  said  Mildred  carelessly.  “  ’Twould  make 
you  vainer  than  you  are.” 

“  It  is  not  well  to  hide  a  kind  thought  from  me,  Mildred.” 

“  Indeed  it  is  not,  Arthur.  And  so,  I  will  muster  courage  to 
speak  it,”  said  the  confiding  girl  -with  vivacity,  after  a  short  pause 
during  which  she  hung  fondly  upon  her  lover’s  arm  ;  and  then 
suddenly  changing  her  mood,  she  proceeded  in  a  tone  of  deep  and 
serious  enthusiasm,  “  it  is,  that  since  that  short,  eventful  and  most 
solemn  meeting,  I  have  loved  you,  Arthur,  with  feelings  that  I  did 
not  know  until  then  were  mine.  My  busy  fancy  has  followed  you 
in  all  your  wanderings — painted  with  stronger  hues  than  nature 
gives  to  any  real  scene  the  difficulties  and  disasters  that  might  cross 
your  path — noted  the  seasons  with  a  nervous  acuteness  of  remark, 
from  very  faint-heartedness  at  the  thought  that  they  might  blight 
your  health  or  bring  you  some  discomfort.  I  have  pored  over  the 
accounts  of  battles,  the  march  of  armies,  the  tales  of  prisonei's, 
relating  the  secrets  of  their  prisons ;  studied  the  plans  of  generals 
and  statesmen,  as  the  newspapers  or  common  rumor  brought  them 
to  ray  knowledge,  with  an  interest  that  has  made  those  around  me 
say  I  was  sadly  changed.  It  was  all  because  I  had  grown  cowardly 
and  feared  even  my  own  shadow.  Oh,  Arthur,  I  am  not  indeed 
what  I  was.” 

The  solemnity,  force  and  feeling  with  which  Mildred  gave  utter¬ 
ance  to  these  words,  strangely  contrasted  with  the  light  and  gay 
tone  in  which  she  had  commenced ;  but  her  thoughts  had  now 
fallen  into  a  current  that  bore  her  forward  into  one  of  those  bursts 
of  excited  emotion,  which  were  characteristic  of  her  temper,  and 
which  threw  a  peculiar  energy  and  eloquence  into  her  manner, 
butler,  struck  by  the  rising  warmth  of  her  enunciation,  and 
swayed  in  part  by  the  painful  reflections  to  which  her  topic 


46 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


gave  rise,  replied,  in  a  state  of  feeling  scarcely  less  solemn  than 
her  own — 

“  Ah,  Mildred,”  and  as  he  spoke,  he  parted  her  hair  upon  her 
pale  forehead  and  kissed  it,  “  dearest  girl,  the  unknown  time  to 
come  has  no  cup  of  suffering  for  me  that  I  would  not  hold  a  cheap 
purchase  for  one  moment  like  this.  Even  a  year  of  painful  absence 
past,  and  a  still  more  solicitous  one  to  come,  may  be  gallantly  and 
cheerfully  borne  when  blessed  with  the  fleeting  interval  of  this  night. 
To  hear  your  faith,  which  though  I  never  dwelt  upon  it  but  with  a 
confidence  that  I  have  held  it  most  profane  to  doubt,  still,  to  hear 
it  avowed  from  your  own  lips,  now  again  and  again,  repeating  what 
you  have  often  breathed  before,  and  in  letter  after  letter,  written 
down,  it  falls  upon  my  heart,  Mildred,  like  some  good  gift  from 
heaven,  specially  sent  to  revive  and  quicken  my  resolution  in  all  the 
toils  and  labors  that  yet  await  me.  There  must  be  good  in  store 
for  such  a  heart  as  thine ;  and,  trusting  to  this  faith,  I  will  look  to 
the  future  with  a  buoyant  temper.” 

“  The  future,”  said  Mildred,  as  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  pale 
moon  that  now  sheeted  with  its  light  her  whole  figure,  as  she  and 
her  lover  strayed  beyond  the  shade  of  the  beech,  “  I  almost  shudder 
when  I  hear  that  word.  We  live  but  in  the  present ;  that,  Arthur, 
is,  at  least,  our  own,  poor  as  we  are  in  almost  all  beside.  That 
future  is  a  perplexed  and  tangled  riddle — a  dreadful  uncertainty,  in 
the  contemplation  of  rvhich  I  grow  superstitious.  Such  ill  omens 
are  about  us  !  My  father’s  inexorable  will,  so  headstrong,  so 
unconscious  of  the  pain  it  gives  me ;  his  rooted,  yes,  his  fatal 
aversion  to  you  ;  my  thraldom  here,  where,  like  a  poor  bird  checked 
by  a  cord,  I  chafe  myself  by  fluttering  on  the  verge  of  my  prison 
bounds  ;  and  then,  the  awful  perils  that  continually  impend  over 
your  head — all  these  are  more  than  weak  imaginings  ;  they  are  the 
realities  of  my  daily  life,  and  give  me,  what  I  am  almost  ashamed 
to  confess,  a  sad  and  boding  spirit.” 

“Nay,  nay,  dearest  Mildred  !  Away  with  all  these  unreasonable 
reckonings !”  replied  Butler,  with  a  manner  that  too  plainly  be¬ 
trayed  the  counterfeit  of  mirth.  “  Seclusion  has  dealt  unworthily 
with  you.  It  has  almost  turned  thee  into  a  downright  sentimental 
woman.  I  will  have  none  of  this  stepping  to  the  verge  of  melan¬ 
choly.  You  were  accustomed  to  cheer  me  with  sunny  and  w'arm 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


47 


counsel ;  and  you  must  not  forget  it  was  yourself  who  taught  me  to 
strike  aside  the  waves  of  fortune  with  a  glad  temper.  The  fates 
can  have  no  spite  against  one  so  good  as  thou  art !  Time  may  bear 
us  along  like  a  rough  trotting  horse ;  and  our  journey  may  have  its 
dark  night,  its  quagmires,  and  its  jack-o’lanterns,  but  there  will  come 
a  ruddy  morning  ■  at  last — a  smoother  road,  and  an  easier  gait ; 
*  and  thou,  my  gii  l,  shalt  again  instruct  me  how  to  win  a  triumph 
over  the  ills  of  life.” 

“  And  we  will  be  happy,  Ailhur,  because  all  around  us  will  be 
so,”  added  Mildred,  catching  the  current  of  Butler’s  thoughts,  with 
that  ready  versatility  which  eminently  showed  the  earnestness  and 
devotion  of  her  feelings — “Ah,  may  heaven  grant  this  boon,  and 
bring  these  dreams  to  life !  I  think,  Arthur,  I  should  be  happier 
now,  if  I  could  but  be  near  you  in  your  wanderings.  Gladly  w’ould 
I  follow  you  through  all  the  dangers  of  the  war.” 

“  That  were  indeed,  love,  a  trial  past  your  faculty  to  endure. 
No,  no,  Mildred,  she  who  would  be  a  soldier’s  wife,  should  learn 
the  soldier’s  philosophy — to  look  with  a  resigned  submission  on  the 
present  events,  and  trust  to  heaven  for  the  future.  Your  share  in 
this  struggle  is  to  commune  with  your  own  heart  in  solitude,  and 
teach  it  patience.  Right  nobly  have  you  thus  far  borne  that 
grievous  burden !  The  saci-ifice  that  you  have  made — its  ever 
present  and  unmitigated  weight,  silently  and  sleeplessly  inflicting 
its  slow  pains  upon  your  free  and  generous  spirit ;  that,  Mildred,  is 
the  chief  and  most  galling  of  my  cares.” 

“  This  weary  war,  this  weai-y  war,”  breathed  Mildred,  in  a  pensive 
under  key,  “  when  will  it  be  done !” 

“  The  longest  troubles  have  their  end,”  replied  Butler,  “  and  men, 
at  last,  spent  with  the  vexations  of  their  own  mischief,  fly,  by  a 
selfish  instinct,  into  the  bosom  of  peace.  God  will  prosper  our 
entei'prise,  and  bring  our  battered  ship  into  a  fortunate  haven.” 

“  How  little  like  it  seems  it  now !”  returned  Mildred.  “  The 
genei-al  sorrow,  alone,  might  well  weigh  down  the  stoutest  heart. 
That  cause  which  you  have  made  mine,  Arthur,  to  which  you  have 
bestowed  your  life,  and  which,  for  your  sake,”  she  added  proudly, 
“  should  have  this  feeble  arm  of  mine,  could  it  avail,  is  it  not  even 
now  trembling  on  the  verge  of  ruin  ?  Have  not  your  letters,  one 
after  another,  told  me  of  the  sad  train  in  which  misfortunes  have 


48 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


thickened  upon  the  whole  people?  of  defeat,  both  north  and  south, 
and,  at  this  very  time,  of  disgraceful  mutiny  of  whole  regiments 
under  the  very  eye  of  Washington — that  Washington  who  loves  his 
country  and  her  soldiers  as  a  husband  loves  his  bride,  and  a  father 
Ijis  children.  Have  not  those,  to  whom  we  all  looked  for  cham¬ 
pions,  turned  into  mere  laggards  in  the  war  for  freedom  ?  Ob, 
Arthur,  do  you  not  remember  that  these  are  the  thoughts,  the  very 
words,  which  were  penned  by  your  own  hand,  for  my  especial 
meditation  ?  How  can  I  but  fear  that  the  good  end  is  still  far  off? 
How  can  I  but  feel  some  weight  upon  my  heart  ?” 

“You  have  grown  overwise,  Mildred,  in  these  ruminations.  I  am 
to  blame  for  this,  that  in  my  peevish  humor,  vexed  with  the  crosses 
of  the  day,  I  should  have  written  on  such  topics  to  one  so  sensitive 
as  yourself.” 

“  Still  it  is  true,  Arthur,  all  report  confirms  it.” 

“  These  things  do  not  become  your  entertainment,  Mildred.  Leave 
the  public  care  to  us.  Tliere  are  bold  hearts,  love,  and  strong  arms 
yet  to  spare  for  this  quarrel.  We  have  not  yet  so  exhausted  our 
mines  of  strength,  but  that  much  rough  ore  still  lies  unturned  to  the 
sun,  and  many  an  uncouth  lump  of  metal  remains  to  be  fashioned 
for  serviceable  use.  History  tells  of  many  a  rebound  from  despond¬ 
ency,  so  sudden  and  unreckoned,  that  the  wisest  men  could  see  in  it 
no  other  spring  than  the  decree  of  God.  He  will  fight  the  battle  of 
the  weak,  and  set  the  right  upon  a  sure  foundation.” 

“  The  country  rings,”  said  Mildred,  again  taking  the  more  cheer¬ 
ful  hue  of  her  lover’s  hopes,  and  following  out,  with  an  affectionate 
sympathy,  his  tone  of  thought,  “  with  anticipation  of  victory  from 
Gates’s  southern  march.” 

“  That  may  turn  out  to  be  a  broken  reed,”  interrujited  Butler, 
as  if  thinking  aloud,  and  struck  by  Mildred’s  reference  to  a  subject 
that  had  already  engrossed  his  thoughts ;  “  they  may  be  deceived. 
AVashington  would  have  put  a  different  man  upon  that  service.  I 
would  have  a  leader  in  such  a  war,  waiy,  watchful,  humble — diffident 
as  well  as  brave.  I  fear  Gates  is  not  so.” 

Then,  I  trust,  Arthur,”  exclaimed  Alildred,  with  anxious  alaci'ity, 
“  that  your  present  expedition  does  not  connect  you  with  his  for¬ 
tunes  !” 

“  I  neither  follow  his  colors  nor  jiartake  of  his  counsels,”  rejrlied 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


51 


baiting  ouv  citizens  in  Carolina ;  those  ruthless  partizans  who  are 
poisoning  the  fountains  of  contentment  at  every  fire-side.  It  is  not 
a  name  to  conjure  evil  spirits  with.” 

“  Major  Butler,”  said  Henry,  who  during  this  long  interval  had 
been  strolling  backward  and  forward,  like  a  sentinel,  at  some  distance 
from  his  sister  and  her  lover,  and  who,  with  the  military  punctilio 
of  a  soldier  on  duty,  forbore  even  to  listen  to  what  he  could  not 
have  helped  overhearing,  if  it  had  not  been  for  humming  a  tune — 

“  Major,  I  don’t  like  to  make  or  meddle  with  things  that  don’t  belong 
to  me — hut  you  and  Mildred  have  been  talking  long  enough  to  __ 
settle  the  course  of  a  whole  campaign.  And  as  my  father  thinks  he 
can’t  be  too  careful  of  Mildred,  and  doesn’t  like  her  walking  about 
after  night-fall,  I  shouldn’t  be  surprised  if  a  messenger  were 
despatched  for  us — only  I  think  that  man  Tyrrel  is  hatching  some 
plot  with  him  to-night,  and  may  keep  him  longer  in  talk  than 
usual.” 

“  Who  is  Tyrrel  ?”  inquired  Butler. 

“  One  that  I  wish  had  been  in  his  grave  before  he  had  ever  seen 
my  father,”  answered  Mildred  with  a  bitter  vehemence.  “  He  is  a 
wicked  emissary  of  the  royal  party  sent  here  to  entrap  my  dear  father 
into  their  toils.  Such  as  it  has  ever  been  his  fate  to  be  cursed  with 
from  the  beginning  of  the  war ;  but  this  Tyrrel,  the  most  hateful  of 
them  all.” 

“  Alas,  alas,  your  poor  father  !  Mildred,  what  deep  sorrow  do  I 
feel  that  he  and  I  should  he  so  estranged.  I  could  love  him,  coun¬ 
sel  with  him,  honor  him,  with  a  devotion  that  should  outrun  your 
fondest  wish.  Ilis  generous  nature  has  been  played  iq^on,  cheated, 
abused ;  and  I,  in  whom  fortune  and  inclination  should  have  raised 
him  a  friend,  have  been  made  the  victim  of  his  perverted  pa.ssion.” 

“True,  true,”  exclaimed  Mildred,  bursting  into  tears,  and  resting 
her  head  against  her  lover’s  breast,  “  I  can  find  courage  to  bear  all 
hut  this — I  am  most  unhappy and  for  some  moments  she  sobbed 
audibly. 

“  The  thought  has  sometimes  crossed  me,”  said  Butler,  “  that  I 
would  go  to  your  father  and  tell  him  all.  It  offends  my  self-respect 
to  be  obliged  to  practise  concealment  towards  one  who  should  have 
a  right  to  know  all  that  concerns  a  daughter  so  dear  to  him.  Even 
now,  if  I  may  persuade  you  to  it,  I  will  go  hand  in  hand  with  you, 


62 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


and,  with  humble  reverence,  place  myself  before  him  and  divulge  all 
that  has  passed  between  us.” 

“No,  no,  Arthur,  no,”  ejaculated  Mildred  with  the  most  earnest 
determination.  “  It  will  not  come  to  good.  You  do  not  understand 
my  father’s  feelings.  The  very  sight  of  you  would  rouse  him  into 
frenzy ;  there  is  no  name  which  might  fall  upon  his  ear  with 
deeper  oflence  than  yours.  Not  yet,  Arthur,  the  time  has  not  yet 
come.” 

“  I  have  been  patient,”  said  Butler,  “  patient,  Mildred,  for  your 
sake.” 

“  To  try  him  now,”  continued  Mildred,  whose  feelings  still  ran, 
with  a  heady  impetuosity,  upon  this  newly-awakened  and  engrossing 
topic ;  “  now,  in  the  very  depth  of  his  bitterest  aversion  to  what  he 
terms  an  impious  rebellion,  and  whilst  his  heart  is  yet  moved  with 
an  almost  preternatural  hate  against  all  who  uphold  the  cause,  and 
to  you,  especially,  above  whose  head  there  hovers,  in  his  belief, 
some  horrid  impending  curse  that  shall  bring  desolation  upon  him 
and  all  who  claim  an  interest  in  his  blood — no,  no,  it  must  not  be !” 

“Another  year  of  pent-up  vexation,  self-reproach  and  anxious 
concealment  must  then  glide  by,  and  perhaps  another,”  said  Butler. 
“  Well,  I  must  be  content  to  bear  it,  though,  in  the  mean  time,  my 
heart  bleeds  for  you,  Mildred ;  it  is  a  painful  trial.” 

“  For  good  or  for  evil  our  vow  is  now  registered  in  heaven,” 
replied  Mildred,  “  and  we  must  abide  the  end.” 

“  I  would  not  have  it  other  than  it  is,  dearest  girl,  except  this 
stern  resolve  of  your  father — not  for  the  world’s  wealth,”  said 
Butler  warmly.  “But  you  spoke  of  this  Tyrrel — what  manner  of 
.man  is  he  ?  How  might  I  know  him  ?” 

“  To  know  him  would  answer  no  good  end,  Arthur.  His  soul  is 
absorbed  in  stratagem,  and  my  dear  father  is  its  prey.  I  too  am 
grievously  tormented  by  him ;  but  it  is  no  matter,  I  need  not  vex 
your  ear  with  the  tale  of  his  annoyance.” 

“  Indeed !”  exclaimed  Butler  with  a  sudden  expression  of  resent¬ 
ment. 

“  All  that  concerns  my  father,  concerns  me,”  said  Mildred.  “  It 
is  my  evil  destiny,  Arthur,  to  be  compelled  to  endure  the  associa¬ 
tions  of  men,  whose  principles,  habits,  purposes,  are  all  at  war  with 
my  own.  Alas,  such  are  now  my  father’s  constant  companions ! 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


63 


This  man  Tyrrel,  whose  very  name  is  a  cheat  put  on,  I  doubt  not, 
to  conceal  him  from  observation — goes  farther  than  the  rest  in  the 
boldness  of  his  practice.  I  have  some  misgiving  that  he  is  better 
acquainted  with  the  interest  you  take  in  me,  than  we  might  suspect 
possible  to  a  stranger.  I  fear  him.  And  then,  Arthur,  it  is  my 
peculiar  misery  that  he  has  lately  set  up  a  disgusting  pretension  to 
my  regard.  Oh  !  I  could  give  him,  if  my  sex  had  strength  to 
strike,  the  dagger,  sooner  than  squander  upon  him  one  kind  word. 

Yet  am  I  obliged  by  circumstance  to  observe  a  strained  courtesy 
towards  him,  which,  frugal  as  it  is,  makes  me  an  unwilling  hypo¬ 
crite  to  my  own  heart.” 

“  Tyrrel,”  ejaculated  Butler,  “  Tyrrel !  I  have  heard  no  such  name 
abroad !”  then,  muttering  a  deep  curse,  as  he  bit  his  lip  with 
passion,  he  added,  “  Oh,  that  I  could  face  this  man,  or  penetrate  his 
foul  purpose  !  How  is  it  likely  I  might  meet  him  ?” 

“  You  shall  have  no  temptation  to  a  quarrel,”  said  Mildred ; 

“  your  quick  resentment  would  but  give  activity  to  his  venom. 

For  the  sake  of  my  peace,  Arthur,  and  of  your  own,  inquire  no 
further.  Time  may  disclose  more  than  rash  pursuit.” 

“  Leave  that  to  sister  Mildred  and  myself,  major,”  said  Henry, 
who  listened  with  great  interest  to  this  conversation,  “  I  have  my 
eye  upon  him — let  that  satisfy  you  ;  and  when  sister  Mildred  puts 
up  the  game,  depend  upon  it,  I  will  bring  him  down.” 

“  Thanks,  thanks,  dear  Henry !  I  can  trust  you  for  a  ready  friend, 
and  will  even  follow  your  good  advice.  A  more  favorable  season 
for  this  concern  may  soon  arrive ;  meantime,  I  will  bear  this  hint  in 
mind.”  i 

Again  Henry  made  an  appeal  to  the  lovers  to  bring  their  con¬ 
ference  to  an  end.  |^It  was  a  sorrowful  moment,  the  events  of  which 
were  brief,  earnest  and  impassioned,  and  such  as  a  dull  scribbler,  — 
like  myself,  might  easily  mar  in  the  telling ;  yet  they  were  such  as 
zealous  and  eager  natures,  who  have  loved  with  an  intense  and 
absorbing  love,  and  who  have  parted  in  times  of  awful  danger  and 
uncertainty,  may  perchance  be  able  to  picture  to  themselves,  when 
they  recall  the  most  impressive  incident  of  their  lives  to  memory.  I 
will  only  say,  that,  in  that  dark  shade  where  the  beech  tree  spread 
his  canopy  of  leaves  over  the  cool  bank,  and  marked  his  shadow’s 
profile  on  the  green  sward — that  grassy  sward,  on  which  “the 


54 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


constant  moon”  lit  up  the  dewy  lamps,  hung  by  the  spider  on 
blade  and  leaf ;  and  in  that  silent  time,  when  the  distant  water-fall 
came  far-sounding  on  the  ear,  when  sleepless  insects  chirped  in  the 
thicket,  and  dogs,  at  some  remote  homestead,  howled  bugle-like  to 
the  moon  ;  and  in  that  chill  hour,  when  Mildred  drew  her  kerchief 
close  around  her  dew-besprinkled  shoulders,  whilst  Arthur,  fondly 
and  afiFeetionately,  half  enveloped  her  in  the  folds  of  a  military  cloak, 
as  he  whispered  words  of  tender  parting  in  her  ear,  and  imprinted  a 
kiss  upon  her  cheek  ;  and  when,  moreover,  Henry’s  teeth  chattered 
like  a  frozen  warder’s,  then  it  was,  and  there,  that  this  enthusiastic 
girl  again  pledged  her  unalterable  devotion  to  the  man  of  her 
waking  thoughts  and  nightly  dreams,  come  weal,  come  woe,  what¬ 
ever  might  betide  ;  and  the  soldier  paid  back  the  pledge  with  new 
ardor  and  endearment,  in  the  strong  language  that  came  unstudied 
fi’om  the  heart,  meaning  all  that  he  said,  and  rife  with  a  feeling 
beyond  the  reach  of  words.  And,  after  “  mony  a  locked  and  fond 
embrace,”  full  tearfully,  and  lingeringly,  and,  in  phrase  oft  repeated, 
the  two  bade  “farewell,”  and  invoked  God’s  blessing  each  upon  the 
other,  and  then,  not  mthout  looking  back,  and  breathing  a  fresh 
prayer  of  blessings,  they  separated  on  their  dreary  way,  Mildred 
retiring,  as  she  had  come,  on  the  arm  of  her  brother,  and  Butler, 
springing  humedly  into  the  skifip  and  directing  its  swift  passage  to 
the  middle  of  the  stream,  where,  after  a  pause  to  enable  him  to 
discern  the  last  footsteps  of  his  mistress,  as  her  form  glided  into  the 
obscure  distance,  he  sighed  a  low  “  God  bless  her,”  then  resumed 
his  oar,  and  stm’dily  drove  his  boat  against  the  “  opponent  bank.” 


CHAPTER  V. 


A  COMFORTABLE  INN,  AND  A  GOOD  LANDLADY - THE  iaSFOBTUNES 

OF  HEROES  DO  NOT  ALWAYS  DESTROY  THE  APPETITE. 

As  soon  as  Butler  landed  from  the  skiff,  he  threw  his  cloak  into 
the  hands  of  the  sergeant;  then,  with  a  disturbed  haste,  sprang 
upon  his  horee,  and,  commanding  Robinson  to  follow,  galloped 
along  the  road  down  the  river  as  fast  as  the  nature  of  the  gi'ound 
and  the  obscurity  of  the  hour  would  allow.  A  brief  space  brought 
them  to  the  spot  w'here  the  road  crossed  the  stream,  immediately  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  widow  Dimock’s  little  inn,  which  might  here  be 
discerned  ensconced  beneath  the  cover  of  the  opposite  hill.  The 
low-browed  wooden  building,  quietly  stationed  some  thirty  paces  off 
the  road,  was  so  adumbrated  in  the  shelter  of  a  huge  willow,  that 
the  journeyer,  at  such  an  hour  as  this,  might  perchance  pass  the 
spot  unconsciously  by,  were  it  not  for  an  insulated  and  somewhat 
haggard  sign-post  that,  like  a  hospitable  seeker  of  strangers,  stood 
hard  by  the  road  side,  and  there  displayed  a  shattered  emblem  in 
the  guise  of  a  large  blue  ball,  a  little  decayed  by  wind  and  weather, 
which  said  Blue  Ball,  without  superscription  or  device,  was  imiver- 
sally  interpreted  to  mean  “  entertainment  for  man  and  horse,  by  the 
widow  Dimock.”  The  moonlight  fell  with  a  broad  lustre  upon  the 
sign  post  and  its  pendent  globe ;  and  our  traveller,  besides,  could 
descry,  through  the  drapery  of  the  ivillow,  a  window,  of  some  rear 
building  of  the  inn,  richly  illuminated  by  what,  from  the  redness  of 
the  light,  might  be  conjectured  to  be  a  bundle  of  blazing  faggots. 

As  the  horses  had,  immediately  upon  entering  the  ford,  compelled 
their  masters  to  a  halt,  whilst  they  thrust  their  noses  into  the  water 
and  drank  with  the  greediness  of  a  long  and  neglected  thirst,  it  was 
with  no  equivocal  self-gratulation  that  Robinson  directed  his  eye  to 
the  presignifications  of  good  cheer  which  were  now  before  him. 


50 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Butler  had  spoken  “  never  a  word,”  and  the  sergeant’s  habits  of 
subordination,  as  well  as  an  honest  sympathy  in  what  he  guessed 
to  be  the  griefs  of  his  superior  oiBcer,  bad  constrained  him  to  a 
respectful  silence.  The  sergeant,  however,  was  full  of  thoughts 
which,  more  than  once  during  the  gallop  from  the  Fawn’s  Tower, 
he  was  on  the  point  of  uttering  by  way  of  consolation  to  Butler,  and 
which  nothing  prevented  but  that  real  delicacy  of  mind  that  lies  at 
the  bottom  of  a  kind  nature,  and  inhabits  the  shaggy  breast  of  the 
rustic,  at  least  full  as  often  as  it  lodges  in  the  heart  of  the  trim 
worldling.  The  present  halt  seemed,  in  Horse  Shoe’s  reckoning, 
not  only  to  furnish  a  pretext  to  speak,  but,  in  some  degree,  to  render 
it  a  duty ;  and,  in  truth,  an  additional  very  stimulating  subject 
presented  itself  to  our  good  squire,  in  his  instantaneous  conviction 
that  the  glare  from  the  tavern  window  had  its  origin  in  some  active 
operation  which,  at  this  late  hour,  might  be  going  on  at  the  kitchen 
chimney  ;  to  underetand  the  full  pungency  of  which  consideration, 
■  it  is  necessary  to  inform  my  reader,  that  Eobinson  had,  for  some 
time  past,  been  yielding  himself  to  certain  doubts,  whether  his 
friend  and  himself  might  not  arrive  at  the  inn  at  too  late  an  hour 
to  hope  for  much  despatch  in  the  preparation  for  supper.  In  this 
state  of  feeling,  partly  bent  to  cheer  the  spirits  of  Butler,  and  partly 
to  express  his  satisfaction  at  the  prospect  of  his  own  comfort,  he 
broke  forth  in  the  following  terms — 

“  God  bless  all  widows  that  set  themselves  down  by  the  roadside, 
is  my  woi’st  wish !  and,  in  particular,  I  pray  for  good  luck  to  the 
■widow  Dimock,  for  an  orderly  sort  of  body,  which  I  have  no  doubt 
she  is  ;  and  keeps  good  hours — to  judge  by  the  shine  of  the  kitchen 
fire  which  is  blazing  yonder  in  the  rear — and  which,  to  tell  truth, 
major,  I  began  to  be  afeard  would  be  as  dead,  by  this  time  o’  night, 
as  the  day  the  hearth-stone  was  first  laid.  She  desarves  to  be 
spoken  of  as  a  praiseworthy  woman.  And,  moreover,  I  should  say 
she  has  popped  her  house  down  in  a  most  legible  situation,  touching 
our  day’s  march,  by  which  I  mean  it  isn’t  one  step  too  near  a  rea¬ 
sonable  bed  hour.  I  count  it  lucky,  major,  on  your  account;  and 
although  it  isn’t  for  me  ter  give  advice  in  M'oman  affaire — ^for  I  know 
the  creatures  do  try  the  grit  and  edge  of  a  man  amazingly  some¬ 
times — yet,  if  I  mought  say  what  was  running  in  my  head  fit  for  a 
gentleman  and  an  officer  hke  you  to  do  in  such  a  tribulation,  it 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


5l 

would  be  this  :  drop  thinking  and  chawing  over  your  troubles,  and 
take  them  with  a  light  heart,  as  things  that’s  not  to  be  mended  by 
a  solemncolly  long-facedness.  A  good  victual’s  meal  and  a  fair 
night’s  rest  would  make  another  man  of  you.  That’s  my  observa¬ 
tion  ;  and  I  remember  once  to  hear  you  say  the  same  yourself,  upon 
occasion  of  your  losing  the  baggage  wagons  last  fall  on  the  Beaufort 
convoy.  You  ha’n’t  forgot  it,  major  ?” 

“Thank  you,  thank  you,  sergeant.  Your  counsel  is  kindly  offered 
and  wisely  said,  and  I  will  follow  it.  But  it  is  a  little  hard,  fellow 
soldier,”  added  Butler,  with  something  like  an  approach  to  jocu¬ 
larity,  “  it’s  a  little  hard  to  have  one’s  misfortunes  cast  in  his  teeth 
by  a  comrade.” 

“  I  thought  it  would  make  you  laugh,  major !”  replied  Robinson, 
with  a  good-natured  solicitude,  “  for  it  w’an’t  in  the  possibilities  of  a 
mortal  earthly  man  to  save  the  baggage ;  and,  I  remember,  you 
laughed  then,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us,  when  them  pestifarious, 
filching  sheep  stealeis  made  off  with  our  dinners  ;  nobody  ever 
blamed  you  for  it.” 

“Ah,  Galbraith,  you  are  a  good  friend,  and  you  shall  say  what 
you  please  to  me,”  said  Butler,  with  a  returning  cheerfulness ; 
“sorrow  is  a  dull  companion  to  him  who  feeds  it,  and  an  imperti-  ' 
nent  one  to  everybody  beside.  So,  ride  forwai'd,  and  we  will  endea¬ 
vor  to  console  oui'selves  with  the  good  cheer  of  the  widow.  And, 
hark,  Galbraith,  this  Mistress  Dimock  is  an  especial  friend  of  mine ; 
pray  you,  let  her  see,  by  your  considerateness  towards  her,  that  you 
are  aware  of  that — for  my  sake,  good  Horse  Shoe.” 

The  two  soldiers  soon  reached  the  inn,  and,  having  dismounted, 
Butler  aroused  the  attention  of  the  inmates  by  a  few  strokes  upon  •• 
the  door  with  his  riding  rod. 

The  reply  to  this  summons  was  a  shrill  invitation,  in  a  feminine 
voice,  to  “  walk  in and  no  sooner  had  Butler  thrown  open 
the  door  and  advanced  a  few  paces  into  the  passage,  than  the 
head  of  an  elderly  female  was  seen  thrust  through  the  partially 
expanded  doorway  of  the  adjoining  room.  Another  instant,  and 
the  dusky  figure  of  Mistress  Dimock  herself  was  visible  to  our 
travellers. 

“  What  would  you  be  pleased  to  have,  sir  ?”  inquired  the  dame, 
with  evident  distrust  at  this  untimely  approach  of  strangers. 

o-Sr 

Cr 


58 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Accommodation  for  the  night,  and  whatever  you  have  good  to 
offer  a  fi-iend,  Mistress  Dimock.” 

“  Who  are  j’^ou  that  ride  so  late  ?”  again  interrogated  the  hostess ; 
“  I  am  cowardly,  sir,  and  cautious,  and  have  reason  to  be  careful  who 
comes  into  my  house ;  a  poor  unprotected  woman,  good  man.” 

“  A  light,  mother,”  said  Butler,  “  and  you  shall  know  us  better- 
We  are  travellei’s  and  want  food  and  rest,  and  would  have  both  with 
as  little  trouble  to  you  as  possible ;  a  light  will  show  you  an  old 
fi'iend.” 

“  Wait  a  moment,”  returned  the  dame ;  and  then  added,  as  she 
observed  Butler  walk  into  a  room  on  the  left,  “  Take  care,  sir,  it  is 
risking  a  fall  to  grope  in  the  dark  in  a  strange  house.” 

“  The  house  is  not  so  strange  to  me  as  you  suppose.  Unless  you 
have  moved  your  furniture  I  can  find  the  green  settee  beyond  the 
cupboard,”  said  Butler,  familiarly  striding  across  the  room,  and 
throwing  himself  into  the  old  commodity  he  had  named. 

The  landlady,  without  heeding  this  evidence  of  the  conveisancy 
of  her  visitor  with  the  localities  of  the  little  parlor,  had  hastily 
retreated,  and,  in  a  moment  afterwards,  returned  with  a  light,  which, 
as  she  held  it  above  her  head,  while  she  peered  through  a  pair  of 
spectacles,  threw  its  full  effulgence  upon  the  face  of  her 
guest. 

“  Dear  me,  good  lack  !”  she  exclaimed,  after  a  moment’s  gazing  ; 
“  Arthur  Butler,  o’  my  conscience  !  And  is  it  you,  Mr.  Butler  ?” 
Then,  putting  the  candle  upon  the  table,  she  seized  both  of  his  hands 
and  gave  them  a  long  and  hearty  shake.  “  That  Nancy  Dimock 
shouldn’t  know  your  voice,  of  all  others  !  Where  have  you  been, 
and  where  are  you  going  ?  Mercy  on  me  !  what  makes  you  so  late  ? 
And  why  didn’t  you  let  me  know  you  were  coming  ?  I  could  have 
made  you  so  much  more  comfortable.  You  are  chilled  with  the 
night  air;  and  hungry,  no  doubt.  And  you  look  pale,  poor  fellow  ! 
You  surely  couldn’t  have  been  at  the  Dove  Cote  ?”  which  last  inter¬ 
rogatory  was  expressed  with  a  look  of  earnest  and  anxious  inquiry, 

“  No,  not  there,”  replied  Butler,  almost  in  a  whisper  ;  “alas,  my 
kind  dame,  not  there,’’  he  added,  with  a  melancholy  smile,  as  he 
held  the  hand  of  the  hostess  and  shook  his  head ;  “  my  fortune  has 
in  no  jot  improved  since  I  left  you  almost  a  year  ago.  I  broke  from 
you  hastily  then  to  resume  my  share  in  the  war,  and  I  have  had 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


59 


nothing  but  hard  blows  ever  since.  The  tide,  Mistress  Dimock,  sets 
sadly  against  us.” 

“  Never  let  your  heart  fail  you,”  exclaimed  the  landlady ;  “  it 
isn’t  in  the  nature  of  things  for  the  luck  to  be  for  ever  on  the  shady 
side.  Besides,  take  the  good  and  bad  together,  you  have  not  been 
so  hardly  dealt  by.  Captain  Butler.” 

“  Major  Butler,  madam,  of  the  second  Carolina  continental  reg’lar 
infantry,”  interrupted  Robinson,  who  had  stood  by  all  this  time 

^ _ unnoticed,  “  Major  Butler ;  the  captain  has  been  promoted,  by 

_  occa.sion  of  the  wiping  out  of  a  few  friends  from  the  upper  side  of 
the  adjutant’s  roll,  in  the  scrimmage  of  Fort  Moultrie.  He  is  what 
we  call,  in  common  parley,  brevetted.” 

This  annunciation  was  made  by  the  sergeant  with  due  solemnity, 
accompanied  by  an  attempt  at  a  bow,  which  was  abundantly  stiff 
and  ungraceful. 

“  My  friend  Sergeant  Robinson,”  said  Butler  ;  “  I  commend  him. 
Mistress  Dimock,  to  your  especial  favor,  both  for  a  trusty  comrade, 
and  a  most  satisfactory  and  sufficient  trencher  man.” 

“  You  are  welcome  and  free  to  the  best  that’s  in  the  house, 
sergeant,”  said  the  landlady,  courtesying;  “and  I  wish,  for  your 
sake,  it  was  as  good  as  your  appetite,  which  ought  to  be  of  the  best. 
Mr.  Arthur  Butler’s  word  is  all  in  all  under  this  roof ;  and,  whether 
he  be  captain  or  major,  I  promise  you,  makes  no  difference  with  me. 
Bless  me !  when  I  first  saw  you,  major,  you  was  only  an  ensign ; 
then,  whisk  and  away !  and  back  you  come  a  pretty  lieutenant, 
about  my  house  :  and  then  a  captain,  forsooth !  and  now,  on  the 
track  of  that,  a  major.  It  is  up-up-up-the  ladder,  till  you  will  come, 
one  of  these  days,  to  be  a  general ;  and  too  proud,  I  misdoubt,  to  look 
at  such  a  little  old  woman  as  me  !  hegh,  hegh,  hegh !  a  pinch  of 
snuff,  Mr.  Arthur.”  And  here  the  good  dame  prolonged  her 
phthisicky  laugh  for  some  moments,  as  she  presented  a  box  of  Scotch 
snuff  to  her  guest.  “  But  I’ll  engage  promotion  never  yet  made 
the  appetite  of  a  travelling  man  smaller  than  before  ;  so,  gentlemen, 
you  will  excuse  me  while  I  look  after  your  supper.” 

“  The  sooner  the  better,  ma’am,”  said  Robinson  ;  “  your  night  air 
is  a  sort  of  a  whetstone  to  the  stomach  :  but  first,  ma’am,  I  would 
be  obligated  to  you,  if  you  would  let  me  see  the  ostler.” 

“  Hut,  tut !  and  have  I  been  diivelling  here  all  this  time,” 


60 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


exclaimed  the  dame,  “without  once  spending  a  thought  upon  your 
cattle !  Tony,  Tony,  To-ny,  I  say,’’  almost  shrieked  the  hostess,  as 
she  retreated  along  the  passage  towards  the  region  of  the  kitchen, 
and  then  back  again  to  the  fiont  door.  “  Are  you  asleep  ?  Look 
to  the  gentlemen’s  horses ;  lead  them  to  the  stable,  and  don’t  spare 
to  rub  them  down;  and  give  them  as  much  as  they  can  eat. 
Where  are  you,  old  man  ?” 

“  What’s  the  use  of  all  this  fuss.  Missus  Dimck  ?  Arn’t  I  here  on 
the  spot,  with  the  cretur’s  in  my  hand  ?”  grumbled  Out  an  old,  stunted 
negro,  who  answered  to  the  appellation  of  ostler :  “  Arn’t  I  getting 

the  baggage  offi  as  fast  as  I  can  onbuckle  the  straps? — I  don’t  want 
nobody  to  tell  me  when  I  ought  to  step  out.  If  a  hos  could  talk, 
he  ain’t  got  nothing  new  to  say  to  me.  Get  out,  you  varmints,”  he 
shouted,  with  a  sudden  vivacity  of  utterance,  at  three  or  four  dogs 
that  were  barking  around  him ;  “  Consarh  you !  What  you  making 
such  a  conbobberation  about?  You  all  throat  when  you  see  gent- 
men  coming  to  the  house ;  better  wait  tell  you  see  a  thief ;  bound, 
you  silent  enough  then,  with  your  tail  twixt  your  legs  !  Blossom, 
ya  sacy  slut,  keep  quiet,  I  tell  you !” 

In  the  course  of  this  din  and  objurgation,  the  old  negro  succeeded 
in  disburdening  the  horses  of  their  furniture,  and  was  about  to  lead 
them  to  the  stable,  when  Robinson  came  to  give  him  some  directions. 

“  Mind  what  you  are  after  with  them  there  cattle.  Give  them 
not  a  mouthful  for  a  good  hour,  and  plenty  of  fodder  about  their 
feet ;  I’ll  look  at  them  myself  before  you  shut  up.  Throw  a  handful 
of  salt  into  the  trough,  Tony,  and  above  all  things,  don’t  let  me  catch 
you  splashing  water  over  their  backs ;  none  of  that ;  do  you 
hear  ?” 

“  Haw,  haw,  haw  !”  chuckled  Tony  ;  “  think  I  don’t  know  how  to 
take  care  of  a  hos,  mass !  Been  too  use  to  creturs,  ever  sense  so 
high.  Bless  the  gentman !  one  of  the  best  things  on  arth,  when 
you’re  feared  your  hos  is  too  much  blowed,  is  to  put  a  sprinkling  of 
salt  in  a  bucket  o’water,  and  just  stir  a  leetle  Indian  meal  in  with  it ; 
it  sort  of  freshes  the  cretur  up  like,  and  is  onaccountable  good  in 
hot  weather,  when  you  ain’t  got  no  time  to  feed.  But  cold  water 
across  the  hnes  !  oh,  oh,  I  too  cute  in  hos  laming  for  that !  Look 
at  the  top  of  my  head — gvay  as  a  fox  !” 

“  Skip  then,  or  I’ll  open  upon  you  like  a  pack  of  hounds,”  said 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


61 


Robinson,  as  be  turned  on  bis  beel  to  re-enter  tbe  bouse,  “I’ll 
look  in  after  supper.” 

“Never  mind  me,”  replied  Tony,  as  be  led  tbe  borses  off,  “I  have 
tended  Captain  Butler’s  bos  afore  this,  and  be  wan’t  never  onsatisfied 
with  me.” 

These  cares  being  disposed  of.  Horse  Shoe  returned  to  tbe  par¬ 
lor.  The  tidy  display  of  some  plain  furniture,  and  tbe  scrupulous 
attention  to  cleanliness  in  every  part  of  the  room,  afforded  an  intelli¬ 
gent  commentary  upon  tbe  exact,  orderly  and  decent  character  of 
the  Widow  Dirnock.  Tbe  dame  herself  was  a  pattern  of  useful  thrift. 
Her  short  figure,  as  she  now  bustled  to  and  fro,  through  the  apart¬ 
ment,  was  arrayed  in  that  respectable,  motherly  costume  which 
befitted  her  years ;  and  which  was  proper  to  the  period  of  my  story, 
when  the  luxury  of  dress  was  more  expensive  than  at  present,  and 
when  a  correspondent  degree  of  care  was  used  to  preserve  it  in  repair. 
Evidences  of  this  laudable  economy  were  seen  in  the  neatness  with 
which  a  ruffle  was  darned,  or  a  weak  point  fortified  by  a  nicely 
adjusted  patch,  presenting,  in  some  respect,  a  token  both  of  the 
commendable  pride  of  the  wearer,  and  of  the  straitness  of  the 
national  means,  since  the  prevalence  of  war  for  five  years  had  not 
only  reduced  the  wealth  of  individuals  and  rendered  frugality  indis¬ 
pensable,  but  had,  also,  literally  deprived  the  country  of  its  necessary 
supply  of  commodities ;  thus  putting  the  opulent  and  the  needy, 
to  a  certain  extent,  u-pon  the  same  footing.  On  the  present  occasion, 
our  good  landlady  was  arrayed  in  a  gown  of  sober-colored  chintz,  gath¬ 
ered  into  plaits  in  the  skirt,  whilst  the  body  fitted  closely  over  a  pair 
of  long-waisted  stays,  having  tight  sleeves  that  reached  to  the  elbow. 
The  stature  of  the  dame  was  increased  a  full  inch  by  a  pair  of  high- 
heeled,  parti-colored  shoes,  remarkable  for  their  sharp  toes ;  and  a 
frilled  muslin  cap,  with  lappets  that  reached  under  the  chin,  towered 
sufficiently  high  to  contribute,  also,  something  considerable  to  the 
elevation  of  the  tripping  little  figure  of  its  wearer. 

In  such  guise  did  Mistress  Dimock  appear,  as  she  busied  herself  in 
preparing  needful  refreshment  for  the  travellers;  and  for  some  time 
the  house  exhibited  all  that  stir  which  belongs  to  this  important  care 
when  despatched  in  a  retired  country  inn. 

By  degrees,  the  table  began  to  show  the  bounties  of  the  kitchen. 
A  savory  dish  of  fried  bacon,  the  fumes  of  which  had  been,  foi'  a 


62 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


quarter  of  an  hour,  gently  stimulating  the  appetite  of  the  guests, 
now  made  its  appearance,  in  company  with  a  pair  of  broiled  pullets ; 
and  these  were  followed  by  a  detachment  of  brown-crested  hoe- 
cakes^ — the  peculiar  favorite  of  the  province ;  an  abundance  of  rich 
milk,  eggs,  butter,  and  other  rural  knicknackeries,  such  as  no  hungry 
man  ever  surveys  with  indifference.  These  were  successively  depo¬ 
sited  upon  a  homespun  table  cloth,  whose  whiteness  rivalled  the  new 
snow,  with  an  accuracy  of  adjustment  that,  by  its  delay,  produced 
the  most  visible  effects  upon  the  sergeant,  who,  dming  the  spreading 
of  the  board,  sat  silently  by,  watching,  with  an  eager  and  gloating 
earnestness,  the  slow  process,  ever  and  anon  uttering  a  short  hem, 
and  turning  about  restlessly  on  his  chair. 

I  may  pause  here,  after  the  fashion  of  our  worthy  friend  Horse 
Shoe,  to  make  an  observation.  There  is  nothing  that  works  so 
kindly  upon  the  imagination  of  a  traveller,  if  he  be  in  any  doubt  as 
to  his  appetite,  as  the  display  of  such  a  table.  My  particularity  of 
detail,  on  the  present  occasion,  will,  therefore,  be  excused  by  my 
reader,  when  I  inform  him  that  Butler  had  arrived  at  the  inn  in  that 
depressed  tone  of  sjiirits  which  seemed  to  defy  refreshment;  and 
that,  notwithstanding  this  impediment,  he  played  no  insignificant 
part  afterwards  at  supper ;  a  circumstance  mainly  attributable  to  that 
gentle  but  irresistible  solicitation,  which  the  actual  sight  and  fra¬ 
grance  of  the  board  addressed  to  his  dormant  physical  susceptibility. 
I  might,  indeed,  have  pretermitted  the  supper  altogether,  were  there 
not  a  philosophical  truth  at  the  bottom  of  the  matter,  worthy  of  the 
notice  of  the  speculative  and  curious  reader ;  namely,  that  where  a 
man’s  heart  is  a  little  teased  with  love,  and  his  temper  fretted  by 
crossings,  and  his  body  jolted  by  travel ;  especially,  when  he  has 
been  wandering  through  the  night  air,  with  owls  hooting  in  his  ears ; 
and  a  thin  drapery  of  melancholy  has  been  flung,  like  cobwebs,  across 
his  spirits,  then  it.is  my  doctrine,  that  a  clean  table,  a  good-humored 
landlady  and  an  odorous  steaming-up  of  good  things,  in  a  snug, 
cheerful  little  parlor,  are  certain  to  beget  in  him  a  complete  change 
of  mood,  and  to  give  him,  instead,  a  happy  train  of  thoughts  and  a 
hearty  relish  for  his  food.  Such  was  precisely  Butler’s  condition. 

He  and  the  sergeant  now  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  each  drew 
the  attention  of  the  other  by  the  unexpected  vigor  of  their  assaults 
upon  the  dainties  before  them  ;  Robinson  surprised  to  find  the  major 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSOX. 


63 


so  suddenly  revived,  and  Butler  no  less  unprepared  to  see  a  man, 
who  had  achieved  such  wonders  at  dinner,  now  successively  demo¬ 
lish  what  might  be  deemed  a  stout  allowance  for  a  well  fed  lion. 

“  It  almost  seems  to  go  against  the  credit  of  my  house,”  said  the 
hostess,  “  to  set  gentlefolks  down  at  my  table  without  a  cup  of  tea ; 
but  so  it  is ;  we  must  get  used  to  be  stripped  of  all  the  old-fashioned 
comforts.  It  is  almost  treason  for  an  honest  woman  to  have  such  an 
article  in  her  house  now,  even  if  it  could  be  fairly  come  by.  Still, 
I’ll  engage  I  am  tory  enough  yet  to  like  the  smell  of  hyson.  They 
have  no  mercy  upon  us  old  women,  major ;  they  should  have  a  care, 
or  they  will  drive  us  into  the  arms  of  the  enemy.” 

“  Faith  then,  ma’am,”  interrupted  Horse  Shoe  bluntly,  as  he  threw 
his  eye  over  his  shoulder  at  the  landlady,  who  had  broken  into  a 
laugh  at  her  own  sally  of  humor,  “  it  would  be  no  wonder  if  you 
were  soon  driven  back  again.” 

“  Shame  on  you,  Mr.  Sergeant  Robinson,”  retorted  the  dame, 
laughing  again,  “  I  didn’t  expect  to  hear  such  a  speech  from  you ; 
that’s  a  very  sorry  compliment  to  a  poor  country  woman.  If  the 
men  on  our  side  think  so  little  of  us  as  you  do,  it  would  be  no 
wonder  if  we  all  desert  to  King  George  :  but  Major  Arthur  Butler,  I 
am  sure,  will  tell  you  that  we  old  bodies  can  sometimes  make  our¬ 
selves  very  useful — gainsay  it  who  will.” 

“You  seem  to  be  rather  hard,  Galbraith,”  said  Butler,  “on  my 
good  friend  Mistress  Dimock.  I  am  sure,  madam,  the  sergeant  has 
only  been  unlucky  in  making  himself  understood ;  for  I  know  him 
to  be  a  man  of  gallantry  to  your  sex,  and  to  cherish  an  especial  liking 
for  the  female  friends  of  our  cause,  amongst  whom.  Mistress  Dimock, 
I  can  certify  he  is  prepared  to  set  a  high  value  upon  yourself.  The 
sergeant  was  only  endeavoring  to  provoke  your  good  humor.  Try 
this  honey,  Galbraith ;  Mistress  Dimock  is  famous  for  her  beehives ; 
and  perhaps  it  will  give  a  sweeter  edge  to  your  tongue.” 

“  I  spoke,  major,”  replied  Robinson,  awkwardly  endeavoring  to 
extricate  himself  under  this  joint  rebuke,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
plunging  a  spoon  into  the  dish  to  which  Butler  had  invited  his 
notice,  “  consarning  the  difficulty  of  having  ladies — whether  old  or 
young  makes  no  difterence,  it  wan’t  respecting  the  age  of  Mistress 
'  Dimock,  nor  her  beauty,  by  no  means,  that  I  said  what  I  did  say ; 

_ _ but  it  was  consarning  of  the  diflSiculty  of  having  the  women  with 


64 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


them  in  their  marches  and  their  counter-marches.  What  could  such 
tender  creatures  have  done  at  such  a  place  as  the  sieging  of  Charles¬ 
town  ?  Certain,  this  is  most  elegant  honey !”  he  added,  by  way  of 
parenthesis,  as  he  devoured  a  large  slice  of  bread,  well  covered  with 
a  fragment  of  honeycomb,  as  if  anxious  to  gain  time  to  collect  his 
ideas ;  for,  with  all  Horse  Shoe’s  bluntness,  he  was  essentially  a  dif¬ 
fident  man.  “  It  is  my  opinion,  ma’am,  the  best  thing  the  women 

—  can  do,  in  these  here  wars,  is  to  knit ;  and  leave  the  fighting  of  it 

—  out,  to  US  who  hav’n’t  faces  to  be  spoiled  by  bad  weather  and  tough 
times.” 

“  I  don’t  want  to  have  art  nor  part  in  these  quarrels,”  replied  the 
widow.  “  The  saints  above  are  witnesses,  I  think  it  unnatural  enough 
to  see  a  peaceable  country,  and  a  quiet  honest  people,  vexed  and 
harried,  and  run  down  with  all  this  trooping  of  horses,  and  parading 
of  armies,  and  clattering  of  drums,  amongst  the  hills  that  never 
heard  anything  worse  than  the  lowing  of  a  heifer  before.  But  still, 
I  Mush  well  to  liberty  ;  and  if  it  must  be  fought  for,  why,  I  am  even 
content  to  take  my  share  of  the  suffering,  in  my  own  lonesome  way ; 
and  they  that  bear  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  their  friends,  shall 
always  be,  served  in  my  house  with  the  best  that’s  in  it,  and  at  the 
most  reasonable  rates.  Even  if  they  come  without  money,  I  am  not 
the  w'oman  to  turn  them  off  with  an  empty  stomach  ;  I  mean  them 
of  the  right  side.” 

“Well,  that’s  as  sensible  a  speech.  Mistress  Dimock,”  said  Horse 
Shoe,  quickly  seizing  the  occasion  to  make  amends  to  the  landlady 
for  his  former  bluntness,  “  and  as  much  to  the  purpose,  and  spoken 
with  as  much  wisdom  and  circumscription,  as  mought  come  out  of 
the  mouth  of  e’er  a  lady  in  the  land — high  born  or  low  boi-n — I  don’t 
care  where  the  other  comes  from.  And  it  does  a  man’s  heart  good 
to  hear  the  womankind  holding  out  such  presentments.  It’s  encou¬ 
raging  on  the  face  of  it.” 

During  this  conversation  the  supper  was  finished,  and  Mrs.  Di¬ 
mock  had  now  seated  herself,  with  her  elbows  upon  the  table,  so 
placed  as  to  allow  her  to  prop  her  chin  upon  her  hands,  in  which 
position  she  fell  into  an  earnest  but  quiet,  under-toned  confabulation 
with  Butler,  who  partook  of  it  with  the  more  interest,  as  it  related  to 
the  concerns  of  the  family  at  the  Dove  Cote. 

|‘Mr.  Lindsay,  poor  man,”  said  the  dame,  in  the  course  of  this 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


65 


conference,  “  is  wofully  beset.  It  almost  looks  as  if  he  was  haunted 
by  an  evil  spirit,  sure  enough,  which  folks  used  to  say  of  him  after 
his  wife’s  death — and  which,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  our  young  lady 
Mildred  has  sometimes  more  than  half  hinted  to  me  ;  he  is  so  run 
at,  and  perplexed,  and  misguided  by  strangers  that  can  have  nO| 
good  intention  in  coming  to  see  him.  There  is  Mr.  Tyrrel,  over  at 
the  Dove  Cote  at  this  very  time,  on  his  third  visit,  major,  in  less 
now  than  two  months  past ;  yes,  let  me  see,  he  brought  the  news 
here  of  the  recapitulation — I  think  you  military  call  it — though, 
heaven  knows,  I  have  but  a  poor  head  for  these  bloodthirsty  words 
— I  mean  the  taking  of  Charleston  ;  three  times  has  he  been  here, 
counting  from  that  day.  Where  he  comes  from,  and  who  are  his 
kith  and  kin,  I  am  sure  I  don’t  know.” 

“  Tyrrel,  ha  !  yes,  I  have  heard  of  him  to-night,  for  the  first 
time,”  said  Butler. 

“  He  must  be  a  rich  man,”  continued  the  hostess,  “  for  he  travels 
,with  two  white  servants,  and  always  pays  his  way  in  gold.  One  of 
his  men  is  now  in  the  house  ;  and,  between  you  and  me,  major,  this 

man  is  a  very  inquisitive  sort  of  person,  and  would  hardly  be  taken _ 

-for  a  serving  man ;  and  he  is  a  cautious  fellow  too,  although  there 
is  a  good  deal  of  swagger  and  bullying  about  him,  which  might 
deceive  one  at  first  sight.” 

“  Here,  in  the  house  to-night  ?”  inquired  Butler. 

“  Speak  low,  major,  the  man  is  now  walking  the  porch  before  our 
windows.” 

“  What  does  Mildred  say  of  this  Tyrrel  ?”  asked  Butler. 

“  Has  she  been  here  lately  ?” 

“  The  good  lady  never  stirs  from  home  whilst  Tyrrel  is  at  the 
Dove  Cote  ;  for  fear,  I  believe,  that  he  will  follow  her,  for  they  do 
whisper  about  in  the  neighborhood — though  I  don’t  say  it  to  alarm 
you,  Mr.  Arthur,  that  this  man  is  of  the  high  quality,  a  nobleman, 
some  say,  and  that  he  has  come  here  a-courting.  Only  think  of  the 
assurance  of  the  man  !  But  if  he  was  a  ])rince,  and  every  hair  of 
his  head  strung  with  diamonds,  and  Miss  Mildred  was  as  free  as  the 
day  you  first  saw  her,  I  can  say  with  safety  he  would  find  but  cold 
comfort  in  that  game ;  for  she  despises  him,  major,  both  for  himself 
and  for  his  tory  principles.  She  does  hate  him  with  a  good  will. 

No,  no,  her  heart  and  soul  ai’e  both  where  they  ought  to  be,  for  all 


4 


66  HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

her  father,  poor  man,  and  this  rich  gentleman !  Oh,  it  is  a  cruel 
thing  that  you  and  our  pretty  lady  cannot  live  quietly  together ;  but 
Mr.  Lindsay  is  past  talking  to  about  it.  I  declare  I  think  his  mind 
is  touched  :  I  positively  believe  it  would  kill  him  if  he  knew  all  that 
has  passed  in  this  house  ;  but  he  is,  in  the  main,  a  good  man,  and  a 
kind  father,  and  is  very  much  to  be  pitied.  I  see  you  are  sad  and 
sorrowful,  Mr.  Arthur  :  I  didn’t  mean  to  distress  you  with  my  prat- 
- ing.  You  tell  me,  you  think  you  may  travel  as  far  as  Georgie.” 

“  Even  so  far,  good  dame,  if  some  accident  should  not  shorten  my 
career.  These  are  doubtful  times,  and  my  path  is  as  uncertain  as 
the  chances  of  war.  It  may  be  long  before  I  return. 

“  I  grieve  night  and  day,  and  my  heart  bleeds  for  Miss  Mildred, 
for  she  is  so  good,  so  constant,  so  brave,  too,  for  a  woman,”  said  the 
widow  with  unaffected  emotion.  “  Well-a-day  !  what  woes  these 
wars  have  brought  upon  us  !  You  told  her  your  plans,  Mr.  Arthur  ?” 

“  Our  interview  was  short  and  painful,”  replied  Butler.  “  I 
scarcely  know  what  I  said  to  her.  But,  one  thing  I  entreat  of  you : 
___  my  letters  will  be  directed  to  your  charge ;  you  will  contrive  to  have 
them  promptly  and  secretly  delivered :  oblige  me  still  in  that,  good 
mother.  Henry  will  often  visit  you.” 

“  And  a  brave  and  considerate  young  man  he  is,  major  ;  I’ll  be 
surety  for  his  making  of  an  honorable  and  a  real  gentleman.  Do 
you  join  the  army  in  Carolina  ?” 

“  Perhaps  not.  My  route  lies  into  the  mountains,  our  troops 
struggle  for  a  footing  in  the  low  country.” 

“  If  I  may  make  bold.  Major  Butler,  to  drop  a  word  of  advice  into 
your  ear,  which,  seeing  that  I’m  an  older  man  than  you,”  inter¬ 
rupted  the  sergeant,  in  an  admonitory  whisper,  “  I  think  I  have  got 
good  right  to  do,  why  I  would  just  say  that  there  may  be  no  great 
disconvenience  in  talking  before  friends ;  but  sometimes  silence  brings 
more  profit  than  words.  So,  I  vote  that  we  leave  off  telling  the 
course  of  our  march  till  such  time  as  it  is  done,  and  all  is  safe. 
There  will  be  briers  enough  in  our  way,  without  taking  the  trouble 
to  sow  them  by  the  roadside.  The  man  that  stands  a  little  aside 
from  that  window,  out  on  the  porch,  throws  his  shadow  across  the 
sill  oftener  than  is  honest,  according  to  my  reckoning.  You  said, 
ma’am,”  continued  Horse  Shoe,  addressing  -the  widow,  “  that  the 
fellow  in  the  porch  yon  is  Mr.  Tyrrel’s  man.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


67 


“  He  walks  later  than  usual  to-night,”  replied  Mrs.  Dimock,  “  for 
though  he  can’t  be  called  a  man  of  regular  houi-s,  yet,  unless  he  can 
find  an  idler  to  keep  him  company,  he  is  accustomed  to  he  in  his 
bed  before  this.” 

"  “  He  is  after  no  good,  depend  upon  that,”  said  Horse  Shoe.  “  I 
have  twice  seen  the  light  upon  his  face  behind  the  shutter:  so, 
^  true  man  or  spy,  it’s  my  admonishment  not  to  speak  above  the 
purring  of  a  cat.” 

“You  are  right,  Galbraith,”  said  Butler.  “We  have  many 
reasons  to  distrust  him  ;  and  it  is  at  least  safest  to  keep  our  affairs 
private.” 

“  If  I  thought  he  was  prying,”  continued  Galbraith,  “  which  I  do 
measurably  insinuate  and  believe,  I  would  take  the  freedom  to  give 
him  the  benefit  of  a  drilling  on  good  mannere.  Ha,  major !  as  I 
have  a  hand,  he  is  reconnoitring  us  now  at  this  identical  time ! 
Didn’t  you  see  him  pass  up  and  down  before  the  door,  and  look  in 
as  greedily  as  if  our  faces  were  picture-books  for  him  to  read?  I 
will  have  a  word  with  hini^.  and,  wise  or  simple,  I  will  get  his 
calibre  before  I  am  done  with  him.  Never  let  on,  major;  stay 
where  you  are.  I  promised  to  look  after  our  horees.” 

The  hostess  and  her  guest  now  continued  their  communion ;  in 
which  we  leave  them,  whilst  we  follow  Horee  Shoe  towards  the 
stable. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


There  ’re  two  at  fisty -cuffs  about  it ; 

Sir,  I  may  say  at  dagger’s  drawing, 

But  that  1  cannot  say,  because  they  have  none. 

Mayor  of  Quinborouffh. 


When  Horse  Shoe  left  the  apartment,  he  discovered  the  person, 
■whose  demeanor  had  excited  his  suspicion,  leaning  against  a  post  of 
the  porch,  in  front  of  the  house.  The  moonlight,  as  it  partially  fell 
upon  this  man’s  figure,  disclosed  a  frame  of  sufficient  mould  to  raise 
a  surmise,  that,  in  whatever  form  of  communication  the  sergeant 
might  accost  him,  he  was  not  hkely  to  find  a  very  tractable  subject 
to  his  hand.  Robinson,  however,  without  troubling  himself  with  the 
contemplation  of  such  a  contingency,  determined  to  delay  his  visit  to 
the  stable  long  enough  to  allow  himself  the  expression  of  a  word  of 
warning  or  rebuke,  to  indicate  to  the  stranger  the  necessity  for 
restraining  his  curiosity  in  regard  to  the  guests  of  the  inn.  With 
this  view  he  halted  upon  the  porch,  while  he  scanned  the  person 
before  him,  and  directed  an  earnest  gaze  into  his  face.  The  stranger, 
slightly  discomfited  by  this  eager  scrutiny,  turned  his  back  upon  his 
visitor,  and,  with  an  air  of  idle  musing,  threw  his  eyes  towards  the 
heavens,  in  which  position  he  remained  until  summoned  by  the 
familiar  accost  of  Horse  Shoe. 

“  Well !  and  what  do  you  make  of  the  moon  ?  As  sharp  an  eye 
as  you  have  in  your  head,  neighbor,  I’m  thinking  it  will  do  you  no 
-great  sarvnce  there.  You’re  good  at  your  spying  trade ;  but  you 
will  get  nothing  out  of  her ;  she  keeps  her  secrets.” 

Startled  by  this  abrupt  gi'eeting,  which  was  made  in  a  tone  half¬ 
way  between  jest  and  earnest,  the  stranger  quickly  confi’onted  his 
challenger,  and  bestowed  upon  him  a  keen  and  inquiring  inspection ; 
then  breaking  into  a  laugh,  he  replied  with  a  free  and  impudent 
swagger — 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


69 


“  You  are  mistaken,  Master  Jack  Puddiia^l;.  What  says  the  pro¬ 
verb  ?  Wit’s  in  the  wane  when  the  mddn’s  at  full.  Now,  our 
mistress  has  let  roe  into  a  secret.  She  tells  me  that  you  will  not 
lose  your  wits,  when  she  comes  to  her  growth.  The  reason  why  ? 
first,  because  she  never  troubles  heiself  with  so  small  a  stock  as  yours,  — ___ 

and  second,  because  your  thick  skull  is  moon-proof;  so,  you’re  safe, 
friend.” 

“  A  word  in  your  ear,”  said  Horse  Shoe ;  “  you  are  not  safe, 

friend,  if  you  are  cotched  again  peeping  through  the  chinks  of  the  - - 

window,  or  sneaking  upon  the  dark  side  of  the  doorway,  to  pick  up 
a  crumb  of  talk  from  people  that  are  not  axing  your  company. 

Keep  that  in  your  memory.” 

“  It’s  a  base  lie,  Mr.  Bumpkin,  if  you  mean  to  Insinuate  that  I 
did  either.” 

“  Oh,  quiet  and  easy,  good  man  !  No  flusterifications  here !  I  _ 

am  civil  and  peaceable.  Take  my  advice,  and  chaw  your  cud  in 
silence,  and  go  to  bed  at  a  reasonable  hour,  without  minding  what 
folks  have  to  say  who  come  to  the  widow  Dimock’s.  It  only  run  in 
my  head  to  give  you  a  polite  sort  of  a  warning.  So,  good  night ;  I 
have  got  business  at  the  stable.” 

Before  the  other  could  reply,  Robinson  strode  away  to  look  after  , 
the  accommodations  of  the  horses. 

“  The  devil  take  this  impertinent  ox-driver  !”  muttered  the  man 
to  himself,  after  the  sergeant  had  left  him  ;  “  I  have  half  a  mind  to 
take  his  carcase  in  hand,  just  to  give  it  the  benefit  of  a  good,  whole¬ 
some  manipulation.  A  queer  fellow,  too — a  joker !  A  civil,  peace¬ 
able  man  ! — the  hyperbolical  rogue !  Well,  I’ll  see  him  out,  and, 
laugh  or  fight,  he  shan’t  want  a  man  to  stand  up  to  him  !” 

Having  by  this  train  of  reflection  brought  himself  into  a  mood  - 

which  might  be  said  to  hover  upon  the  isthmus  between  anger  and - 

mirth,  ready  to  fall  to  either  side  as  the  provocation  might  serve, 
the  stranger  sauntered  slowly  towards  the  stable,  with  a  hundred 
odd  fancies  as  to  the  character.«ii.,the  man  he  sought  running 
through  his  mind.  Upon  his  arri\1Si|tJiere  he  found  that  Horse 
Shoe  was  occupied  in  the  interior  of  t^l^uilding,  and  being  still  in 
a  state  of  uncertainty  as  to  the  manner  in  which  it  was  proper  he 
should  greet  our  redoubtable  friend,  he  took  a  seat  on  a  small  bench  _ 
at  the  door,  resolved  to  wait  for  that  worthy’s  reappeai'ance.  This 


i' 


70 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


delay  had  a  soothing  efiect  upon  his  temper,  for  as  he  debated  the 
subject  over  in  his  mind,  certain  considerations  of  policy  seemed  to 
indicate  to  him  the  necessity  of  making  himself  better  acquainted 
with  the  business  and  quality  of  the  indirtdual  whom  he  came  to 
meet. 

After  a  few  moments.  Home  Shoe  was  seen  with  old  Tony  at  the 
stable  door,  where,  notwithstanding  the  unexpected  presence  of  the 
man  to  whom  he  had  so  lately  offered  his  unwelcome  advice,  and 
upon  whom  he  now  conferred  not  the  slightest  notice,  he  continued 
uninterruptedly,  and  with  deliberate  composure,  to  give  his  orders 
upon  what,  at  that  moment,  doubtless,  he  deemed  matter  of  much 
graver  importance  than  any  concern  he  might  have  in  the  visit  of 
his  new  acquaintance. 

“  Do  what  I  tell  you,  Tony  ;  get  a  piece  of  linen,  rub  it  well  over 
with  tallow,  and  bring  it  here  along  with  a  cup  of  vinegar.  The 
beast’s  back  is  cut  with  the  saddle,  and  you  must  wash  the  sore  fii'st 
with  the  vinegar,  and  then  lay  on  the  patch.  Go,  old  fellow,  and 
Mrs.  Dimock,  may  be,  can  give  you  a  strip  of  woollen  cloth  to  sarve 
as  a  pad.” 

With  these  instructions  the  negro  retired  towards  the  house. 

“  I  see  you  understand  your  business,”  said  the  stranger.  “  You 
look  to  your  horse’s  back  ^  the  end  of  a  day’s  journey,  and  you 
know  how  to  manage  a  "sore  spot.  Vinegar  is  the  thing !  You 
have  had  a  long  ride  ?” 

“  How  do  you  know  that  ?”  inquired  Horse  Shoe. 

“  Know  it !  any  man  might  guess  as  much  by  the  way  you  sho¬ 
velled  down  your  supper.  I  happened  by  chance  to  pass  your  win¬ 
dow,  and  seeing  you  at  it,  faith  !  for  the  soul  of  me  I  couldn’t  help 
taking  a  few  turns  more,  just  to  watch  thiS  end  of  it.  Ha !  ha !  ha ! 
give  me  the  fellow  that  does  honor  to  his  stomach  !  And  your  dolt 
head  must  be  taking  offence  at  my  looking  at  you  !  Why,  man, 
“your  appetite  was  a  most  beautiful  rarity  ;  I  wouldn’t  have  lost  the 
sport  of  it  for  the  pleasure  of  the  best  supper  I  ever  ate  myself.” 

— —  -  “  Indeed  !”  said  Eobinson,'  drily. 

“  Pease  upon  the  trencher !”  exclaimed  the  other,  with  the  air  of 
a  pot  companion  ;  “  that’s  the  true  music  for  good  fellows  of  your 
kidney  !  But  it  isn’t  every  where  that  you  will  find  such  bountiful 
quarters  as  you  get  here  at  the  Blue  Ball ;  in  that  cureed  southern 


71 


HORSE  SHOE  R-OBINSON. 


country  a  man  like  you  would  breed  a  famine,  if  you  even  do  not 
find  one  ready  made  to  your  hand  when  you  get  there.” 

“  Where  mought  you  he  from  ?”  asked  the  sergeant,  with  gi’eat 
gravity,  without  responding  to  the  merriment  of  his  visitor,  and 
purposely  refraining  from  the  answer  which  he  saw  it  was  the 
other’s  drift  to  obtain  relative  to  the  course  of  his  travel. 

“  It  was  natural  enough  that  you  should  have  mistaken  my 
object,”  continued  the  stranger,  heedless  of  Horse  Shoe’s  abrupt 
question,  “  and  have  suspected  me  for  wanting  to  hear  some  of  your 
rigmarole ;  but  there  you  did  me  wrong.  I  forgive  you  for  that, 
and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  hate  your - ” 

“  That’s  not  to  the  purpose,”  said  Horse  Shoe ;  “  I  axed  you  a 
civil  question,  and  maybe,  that’s  more  than  you  have  a  right  to. 
You  can  answer  if  or  let  it  alone.  I  want  to  know  where  mought 
you  he  from  ?” 

“  Since  jmu  are  bent  upon  it,  then,”  replied  the  other,  suddenly 
changing  his  tone,  and  speaking  with  a  saucy  emphasis,  “I’ll 
answer  your  question,  when  you  tell  me  what  mought  be  your 
right  to  know.” 


“  It’s  the  custom  of  our  country,”  rejoined  Horse  Shoe,  “  I  don’t 
know  what  it  may  be  in  yourn,  to  lain  a  little  about  the  business  - 
of  every  man  we  meet ;  but  we  do  it  by  fair,  out-and-out  question 
and  ansM'er — all  above  board,  and  we  hold  in  despise  all  sorts  of 
contwistifications,  either  by  laying  of  tongue-traps,  or  listening  under 
eaves  of  houses.” 

“  Well,  most  wise  and  shrewd  master,  what  do  you  call  my 
country  ?  Ha !  ha !  ha !  I  M’ould  be  sworn  you  think  you  have 
found  some  mare’s  nest !  If  it  were  not  that  your  clown  pate  is 
somewhat  addled  by  over  feeding,  I  would  hold  your  speech  to 
be  impertinent.  My  country.  I’d  have  your  sagacity  to  under¬ 
stand  - 

“  Tut,  man,  it  arn’t  worth  thq  j,rouble  of  talking  about  it !  I 
never  saw  one  of  your  people  that  I  didn’t  know  him  hy  the  first 
word  that  came  out  of  his  lips.  You  are  an  Englishman,  and  a  red 
coat  into  the  bargain,  as  we  call  them  in  these  parts.  You  have 
been  a  sodger.  Now,  never  bounce  at  that,  man  !  There’s  no  great 
harm  in  belonging  to  that  craft.  They  listed  you,  as  likely  as  not, 
when  you  was  flusticated  with  liquor,  and  you  took^your  pay; 


12 


0  " 

HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

there  was  a  bargain,  and  it  was  your  business  to  stand  to  it.  But 
I  have  got  a  jjiece  of  wisdom  to  whisper  to  you,  insomuch  as  you 
are  not  in  the  most  agreeablest  part  of  the  world  to  men  of  your 
colors,  it  would  be  best  to  be  a  little  more  shy  against  giving  offence. 
You  said  some  saucy  things  to  me  just  now,  but  I  don’t  grudge 
your  talking,  because  you  see,  I  am  an  onaccountable  hard  sort  of 
pemon  to  be  instigated  by  speeching.” 

“  Verily,  you  are  a  most  comical  piece  of  dulness,”  said  the  other, 
in  a  spirit  of  raillery.  “  In  what  school  did  you  learn  your  philoso¬ 
phy,  friend  ?  You  have  been  brought  up  to  the  wholesome  tail  of 
the  plough,  I  should  say — an  ancient  and  reputable  occupation.” 

“  When  I  obsarved,  just  now,”  replied  Robinson,  somewhat  sternly, 
“  that  I  couldn’t  be  instigated,  I  meant  to  be  comprehended  as  laying 
down  a  kind  of  general  doctrine  that  I  was  a  man  not  given  to 
quarrels ;  but  still,  if  I  suspicioned  a  bamboozlement,  which  I  am 
not  far  from  at  this  present  speaking,  if  it  but  come  up  to  the  confla¬ 
grating  of  only  the  tenth  part  of  the  wink  of  an  eye,  in  a  project  to 
play  me  off,  fore  God,  I  confess  myself  to  be  as  weak  in  the  flesh  as 
e’er  a  rambunctious  fellow  you  mought  meet  on  the  road.” 

“  Friend,”  said  the  other,  “  I  do  not  understand  thy  lingo.  It 
has  a  most  clodpolish  smack.  It  is  neither  grammar,  English,  nor 
sense.” 

“  Then,  you  are  a  damned,  onmannerly  rascal,”  said  Horse-Shoe, 
“and  that’s  grammar,  English,  and  sense,  all  three.” 

“Ha,  you  are  at  that!  Now,  my  lubberly  booby,  I  underetand 
you,”  returned  the  other,  springing  to  his  feet.  “  Do  you  know  to 
whom  you  are  speaking  ?” 

“  Better  than  you  think  for,”  replied  the  sergeant,  placing  himself 
in  an  erect  position  to  receive  what  he  had  a  right  to  expect,  the 
threatened  assault  of  his  adversary,  “  I  know  you,  and  guess  you” 
arrand  here.” 

“  You  do  ?”  returned  the  other  sharply.  “  You  have  been  juggling 
with  me,  sir.  You  are  not  the  gudgeon  I  took  you  for.  It  has 
suited  your  purpose  to  play  the  clown,  eh?  Well,  sir,  and  pray, 
what  do  you  guess  ?” 

“  Nothing  good  of  you,  considering  how  things  go  here.  Suppose 
I  was  to  say  you  was,  at  this  self-same  identical  time,  a  sodger  of 
the  king’s  ?  I  have  you  there  !” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


13 


The  stranger  turned  on  his  heel  and  retreated  a  few  paces,  evi¬ 
dently  perplexed  at  the  new  view  in  which  the  sergeant  suddeply 
rose  to  his  apprehension.  Ilis  curiosity  and  his  interest  wei’e  both 
excited  to  gain  a  more  distinct  insight  into  a  man  whom  he  had 
mistaken  for  a  mere  simpleton,  but  whose  liints  showed  him  to  be 
shrewdly  conversant  with  the  personal  concerns  of  one,  whom,  appa¬ 
rently,  he  had  seen  to-night  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  With  this 
anxiety  upon  his  mind,  he  again  appi’oached  the  sergeant,  as  he 
replied  to  the  last  question. 

“  Well,  and  if  I  were  ?  It  is  a  character  of  which  I  should  have 
no  reason  to  be  ashamed.” 

“  That’s  well  said  !”  exclaimed  Horee  Shoe.  “  Up  and  speak  out, 
and  never  be  above  owning  the  truth ;  that’s  the  best  sign  that  can 
be  of  a  man.  Although  it  mought  be  somewhat  dangerous,  just 
hereabouts,  to  confess  yourself  a  sodger  of  King  George — let  me  tell 
you,  that,  being  against  you,  I  am  not  the  person  to  mislest  you  on 
that  head,  by  spreading  the  news  abroad,  or  setting  a  few  dozen  of 
■whigs  upon  your  scent,  which  is  a  thing  easily  done.  If  your  busi¬ 
ness  here  is  peaceable  and  lawful,  and  you  don’t  let  your  tongue 
brawl  against  quiet  and  orderly  people,  you  are  free  to  come  and  go 
for  me.” 

“  Thank  you,  sir :  but  look  you ;  it  isn’t  my  way  to  answer  questions 
about  my  own  business,  and  I  scorn  to  ask  any  man’s  leave  to  come 
and  go  where  and  when  my  occasions  call  me.” 

“  If  it  isn’t  your  way  to  answer  questions  about  your  own  business,” 
replied  Hoi-se  Shoe,  “  it  oughtn’t  to  be  your  w'ay  to  ax  them  about 
other  people’s ;  but  that  don’t  disturb  me ;  it  is  the  rule  of  the  war 
to  question  all  comers  and  goers  that  W'e  happen  to  fall  in  with, 
specially  now,  when  there’s  a  set  of  your  devils  scampering  and  rag¬ 
ing  about  in  Carolina,  hardly  a  summer  day’s  ride  off  this  province, 
burning  houses  and  killing  cattle,  and  turning  everything  topsy-turvy, 
with  a  pack  of  rascajly  tories  to  back  them.  In  such  times  all  sorts 
of  tricks  are  played,  such  as  putting  on  coats  that  don’t  belong 
to  a  man,  jmd  deceiving  honest  people  by  lies,  and  what  not.” 

“  You  ate  a  stranger  to  me,”  said  the  other ;  but  let  me  tell  you, 
without  circumlocution  or  periphrase,  I  am  a  free  born  subject  of  the 
king,  and  I  -see  no  reason  why,  because  some  of  his  people  have 
turned  rebels  a  true  man,  who  travels  his  highway,  should  be  obliged 

4 


74 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


to  give  an  account  of  himself  to  every  inquisitive  fellow  who  chooses 
to  challenge  it.  Suppose  I  tell  you  that  you  meddle  with  matters 
that  don’t  concern  you  ?” 

“  Then  you  mought  chance  to  get  your  head  in  your  hand,  that’s 
all.  And,  hark  you,  if  it  wan’t  that  I  am  rather  good-natured,  I 
mought  happen  to  handle  you  a  little  rough  for  that  nicknaming  of 
the  friends  of  liberty,  by  calling  them  rebels.  It  doesn’t  suit  such 
six-pence-a-day  fellows  as  you,  who  march  right  or  left  at  the  bidding 
of  your  master,  to  rob  a  church  or  root  up  an  honest  man’s  peaceful 
hearth,  without  so  much  as  daring  to  have  a  thought  about  the 
righteousness  of  the  matter — it  doesn’t  suit  such  to  be  befouling  them 
that  fight  for  church  and  fireside  both,  with  your  scurvy,  balderdash 
names.” 

“  Well,  egad !  you  are  a  fine  bold  fellow  who  speaks  his  thoughts, 
that’s  not  to  be  denied !”  said  the  stranger,  again  suddenly  changing 
his  mood,  and  resorting  to  his  free  and  easy  address.  “You  suit 
these  times  devilish  well.  I  can’t  find  it  in  my  heart  to  quarrel  with 
you.  We  have  both  been  somewhat  rough  in  speech,  and  so,  the 
account  is  square.  But  now  tell  me,  after  all,  are  you  sure  you  have 
guessed  me  right  ?  How  do  you  know  I  am  not  one  of  these  very 
rebels  myself?” 

“  For  two  good  and  point-blank  reasons.  First,  you  dar’n’t  deny 
that  you  have  pocketed  the  king’s  money  and  worn  his  coat — that’s 
one.  And,  second,  you  are  now  here  under  the  orders  of  one  of  his 
ofiBcers.” 

“  No,  no,  good  friend,”  said  the  man,  with  a  voice  of  less  boldness 
than  heretofore,  “  you  are  mistaken  for  once  in  your  life.  So  far 
what  you  say,  I  don’t  deny — I  am  in  the  service  of  a  gentleman,  who 
for  some  private  affairs  of  his  own  has  come  on  a  visit  to  this  part 
of  the  province,  and  I  admit  I  have  been  in  the  eld  country.” 

“  I  am  not  mistaken,  good  friend,”  drawkd  out  Robinson,  affect¬ 
edly.  “  You  come  from  the  south.  I  can*. ell  men’s  fortunes  with¬ 
out  looking  into  the  palms  of  their  hands.” 

“  You  are  wrong  again,”  said  the  other  tartly,  as  he  gi’ew  angry 
at  being  thus  badgered  by  his  opponent,  “  I  come  from  the  north.” 

“  That’s  true  and  it’s  false  both,”  returned  Robinson.  “  From  the 
north,  I  grant  you — to  the  south  with  Sir  Henry,  and  frcim  the  south 
up  here.  You  will  find  I  can  conjure  a  little,  friend.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


15 


“  The  devil  take  your  conjuring  !”  exclaimed  the  other,  as  he  bit 
his  lip  and  strode  restlessly  backward  and  forward  ;  which  perplexity 
being  observed  by  the  sergeant,  he  did  not  fail  to  aggravate  it  by 
breaking  into  a  hoaise  laugh,  as  he  said - 

“  It  wa’n’t  worth  your  while  to  try  to  deceive  me.  I  knowed  you 
by  manifold  and  simultaneous  signs.  Him  that  sets  about  scouting 
after  other  people’s  secrets,  ought  to  be  wary  enough  to  larn  to 
keep  his  own.  But  don’t  take  it  so  to  heart,  neighbor,  there’s  no 
occasion  for  oneasiness — 1  have  no  mind  to  harm  you.” 

“  Master  bully,”  said  the  stranger,  planting  himself  immediately 
in  front  of  the  sergeant,  “  in  England,  where  I  was  bred,  we  play  at 
cudgels,  and  sometimes  give  broken  heads ;  and  some  of  us  are  gifted 
with  heavy  fists,  wherewith  we  occasionally  contrive  to  box  a  rude 
fellow  who  pries  too  much  into  our  affairs.” 

“  In  our  country,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  “  we  generally  like  to  get  a 
share  of  whatever  new  is  stirring,  and,  though  we  don’t  practise 
much  with  cudgels,  yet,  to  sarve  a  turn,  we  do,  now  and  then,  break 
a  head  or  so ;  and,  consarning  that  fist  work  you  happened  to 
touch  upon,  we  have  no  condesentious  scruples  against  a  fair  rap  or 
two  over  the  knowledge-box,  and  the  tripping-up  of  a  fractious  chap’s 
heels,  in  the  way  of  a  sort  of  a  rough-and-tumble,  which,  may  be, 
you  underetand.  You  have  been  long  enough  here,  mayhap,  to 
find  that  out.” 

“  Then,  it  is  likely,  it  would  please  you  to  have  a  chance  at  such 
a  game  ?  I  count  myself  a  pretty  tolerable  hand  at  the  play,”  said 
the  stranger,  with  a  composure  corresponding  to  that  exhibited  by 
Horse  Shoe. 

“  Ho,  ho  !  I  don’t  want  to  hurt  you,  man,”  replied  the  Sergeant. 
“  You  will  get  yourself  into  trouble.  You  are  hot-headeder  than  is 
good  for  your  healMi.” 

“  As  the  game  was  mentioned,  I  thought  you  might  have  a  fancy 
to  play  it.” 

“  To  be  sure  I  would,”  said  Iloree  Shoe,  “  rather  than  disappoint 
you  in  any  reasonable  longing.  For  the  sake  of  quiet — being  a 
peaceable  man,  I  will  take  the  trouble  to  oblige  you.  Where,  do 
you  think,  would  be  the  likeliest  spot  to  have  it  ?” 

“  We  may  readily  find  a  piece  of  ground  at  hand,”  replied  the 
other.  “  It  is  a  good  moonlight  play,  and  we  may  not  be  interrupted 


16 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


if  we  get  a  little  distance  off  before  the  negro  comes  back.  Toe  to 
toe,  and  face  to  face,  suits  me  best  with  both  friend  and  foe.” 

-  “A  mule  to  drive  and  a  fool  to  hold  back,  are  two  of  the  contra- 
riest  things  I  know,”  said  Robinson,  “  and  so,  seeing  that  you  are  in 
arnest'about  it,  let  us  go  at  it  without  more  ado  upon  the  first  good 
bit  of  grass  we  can  pop  upon  along  the  river.” 

In  this  temper  the  two  antagonists  left  the  vicinity  of  the  stable, 
and  walked  some  hundred  paces  down  along  the  bank  of  the  stream. 
The  man  with  whom  Horse  Shoe  was  about  to  hold  this  strange 
encounter,  and  who  now  walked  quietly  by  his  side,  had  the  erect 
and  soldierly  port  of  a  grenadier.  He  was  square-shouldered,  com¬ 
pact  and  muscular,  and  the  firmness  of  his  gait,  his  long  and  easy 
stride,  and  the  free  swing  of  his  arm  as  he  moved  onward  in  the 
moonlight,  showed  Robinson  that  he  was  to  engage  with  an  adversary 
of  no  common  capacity.  There  was,  perhaps,  on  the  other  side,  some 
abatement  in  this  man’s  self-confidence,  when  the  same  light  disclosed 
to  his  deliberate  inspection  the  brawny  proportions  of  the  sergeant, 
which,  in  the  engrossment  of  the  topics  bandied  about  in  the  late 
dialogue,  he  had  not  so  accurately  regarded. 

When  they  had  walked  the  distance  I  have  mentioned,  they  had 
little  difficulty  to  select  a  space  of  level  ground  with  a  sufficient  mould 
for  the  purpose  of  the  proposed  tiial  of  strength. 

“  Here’s  as  pretty  a  spot  as  we  mought  find  on  the  riv'er,”  said 
Robinson,  “  and  so  get  ready,  friend.  Before  we  begin,  I  have  a 
word  to  say.  This  here  bout  is  not  a  thing  of  my  seeking,  and  I 
take  it  to  be  close  akin  to  downright  tom-foolery,  for  grown  up  men 
to  set  about  thumping  and  hammering  each  other,  upon  account  of 
a  bras  of  who’s  best  man,  or  such  like,  when  the  whole  univai-se  is 
full  of  occasions  for  scuffles,  and  stands  in  need  of  able-bodied  fellows, 
to  argufy  the  pints  of  right  and  wrong,  that  can’t  be  settled  by 
preachers,  or  books,  or  lawyer.  I  look  upon  this  here  coming  out 
to  fight  no  better  than  a  bit  of  arrant  nonsense.  But,  as  you  will 
have  it,  it’s  no  consarn  of  mine  to  stop  you.” 

“You  are  welcome  to  do  your  worst,”  replied  the  other,  “and the 
less  preaching  you  make  with  it,  the  more  saving  of  time.” 

“  My  woret,”  interrupted  Horse  Shoe,  “  is  almost  more  than  I  have 
the  conscience  to  do  to  any  man  who  isn’t  a  downright  flagi’atious 
enemy;  and,  once  more,  I  would  advise  you  to  think  before  you 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSOK. 


draw  me  into  a  fray  ;  you  are  flustrated,  and  sot  upon  a  quarrel,  and 
mayhap,  you  conjecture  that  by  drawing  me  out  from  behind  my 
retrenchments,  by  which  is  signified  my  good  nature,  and  forcing  me 
to  deploy  into  line  and  open  field,  you’ll  get  the  advantage  of  an 
old  sodger  over  me ;  but  there,  Mr.  Dragoon,  you  are  mistaken.  In 
close  garrison  or  open  field,  in  siege  or  sally,  crossing  a  defile  or 
reconnoitring  on  a  broad  road,  I  am  not  apt  to  lose  my  temper,  or 
strike  without  seeing  where  my  blow  is  to  hit.  Now,  that  is  all  I 
have  to  say  :  so,  come  on.” 

“You  are  not  what  you  seem,”  said  the  antagonist,  in  a  state  of 
wonder  at  the  strain  of  the  sergeant’s  composed  and  deliberate  speech, 
and  at  the  familiarity  v^hich  this  effusion  manifested  with  the  details 
of  military  life.  “  In  the  devil’s  name,  who  are  you  ?  But,  don’t 
fancy  I  pause  to  begin  our  fight,  for  any  other  reason  than  that  I 
may  know  who  I  contend  with.  On  the  honor  of  a  soldier,  I  promise 
you,  I  will  hold  you  to  your  game — man,  or  imp  of  hell — I  care  not. 
Again,  who  in  the  devil  are  you  ?” 

“  You  have  hit  it,”  replied  Horee  Shoe.  “My  name  is  Brimstone,  — 
I  am  first  cousin  to  Belzebub.” 

“  You  have  served  ?” 

“  I  have.” 

“  And  belong  to  the  army  yet  ?” 

“  True  again ;  and  I  am  as  tough  a  sodger,  and  may  be  I  mought 
say,  as  old  a  sodger  as  yourself.” 

“Your  hand,  fellow  soldier.  I  mistook  you  from  the  beginning. 

—  You  continentals — that’s  the  newfangled  word — are  stout  fellows, 
and  have  a  good  knack  at  the  trick  of  war,  though  you  wear  rough 
coats,  and  are  savagely  unrudimentcd  in  polite  learning.  No  matter 
what  colois  a  man  fights  under,  long  usage  makes  a  good  comrade 
of  him ;  and,  b}^  my  faith  !  I  am  not  amongst  the  last  to  do  him 
honor,  even  though  we  stand  in  opposite  ranks.  As  you  say,  most 
sapient  Brimstone,  we  are  not  much  better  than  a  pair  of  fools  for 
this  conspiracy  to  knock  about  each  other’s  pates,  here  at  midnight; 
but  YOU  have  my  pledge  to  it,  and  so,  we  will  go  at  it,  if  it  be  only 
to  win  a  relish  for  our  beds ;  I  will  teach  you,  to-night,  some  skill 
in  the  art  of  mensuration.  You  shall  measure  two  full  ells  upon  this 
green  sod.” 

“  There’s  my  hand,”  said  Horse  Shoe ;  “  now,  if  I  am  flung,  I 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


•rs 

promise  you  I  won’t  be  angry.  If  I  sarve  you  in  the  same  fashion, 
you  must  larn  to  bear  it.” 

“  With  all  my  heart.  So  here  I  stand  upon  my  guard.  Begin.” 

“  Let  me  feel  your  weight,”  said  Robinson,  laughing,  as  he  put 
one  hand  upon  his  adversary’s  shoulder,  and  the  other  against  his 
side.  “  Hark  you,  master,  I  feel  something  hard  here  about  your 
ribs  ;  you  have  pistols  under  your  coat,  friend.  For  the  sake  of  fair 
play  and  keeping  rid  of  foul  blood,  you  had  best  lay  them  aside 
before  we  strike.  Anger  comes  up  onawares.” 

“  I  never  part  from  my  weapons,”  replied  the  other,  stepping  back 
and  releasing  himself  from  Robinson’s  grasp.  “We  are  strangers; 
I  must  know  the  company  I  am  in,  before  I  dismiss  such  old  cronies 
as  these.  They  have  got  me  out  of  a  scrape  before  this.” 

'“  We  took  hands  just  now,”  said  Robinson,  angrily.  “When  I 
give  my  hand,  it  is  tantamount  to  a  book  oath  that  I  mean  fair, 
round  dealing  with  the  man  who  takes  it.  I  told  you,  besides,  I  was 
a  sodger — that  ought  to  have  contented  you — and  you  mought 
sarch  my  breast,  inside  and  out,  you’d  seen  in  it  nothing  but  honest 
meanings.  There’s  something  of  a  suspectable  rascality,  after  that, 
in  talking  about  pistols  hid  under  the  flaps  of  the  coat.  It’s  alto¬ 
gether  onmanful,  and,  what’s  more,  onsodgerly.  You  are  a  deceit, 
and  an  astonishment,  and  a  hissing,  all  three,  James  Curry,  and  no 
better,  to  my  comprehension,  than  a  coward.  I  know  you  of  old, 
although,  mayhap,  you  disremember  me.  I  have  hearn  said,  by 
more  than  one,  that  you  was  a  double-faced,  savage-heaided,  disre¬ 
gardless  beast,  that  snashed  his  teeth  where  he  darsn’t  bite,  and 
bullied  them  that  hadn’t  the  heart  to  fight ;  I  have  hearn  that  of 
you,  and,  as  I  live,  I  believe  it.  Now,  look  out  for  your  bull  head, 
for  I  will  cufiF  you  in  spite  of  your  pistols.” 

With  these  words.  Horse  Shoe  gave  his  adversary  some  half 
dozen  overpowering  blows,  in  such  quick  succession  as  utterly  defied 
and  broke  down  the  other’s  guard ;  and  then,  seizing  him  by  the 
breast,  he  threw  the  tall  and  stalwart  form  of  Cuny  at  full  length 
upon  the  ground. 

“  There’s  your  two  ells  for  you !  there’s  the  art  of  menstirration, 
you  disgrace  to  the  tail  of  a  drum,”  exclaimed  Horse  Shoe,  with 
accumulating  wi’ath,  as  the  prostrate  man  strove  to  extricate  himself 
from  the  lion  grasp  that  held  him.  In  this  stiife,  Curry  several 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


79 


times  made  an  effort  to  get  liis  hand  upon  his  pistol,  in  which  he 
was  constantly  foiled  by  the  superior  vigor  of  the  sergeant. 

“  No,  no,”  continued  the  latter,  as  he  became  aware  of  this 
attempt,  “James  Curry,  you  shall  never  lay  hold  upon  your  fire¬ 
arms  whilst  I  have  the  handling  of  you.  Give  them  up,  you  twist¬ 
ing  prevaricationer ;  give  them  up,  you  disgi-acer  of  powder  and 
lead ;  and  larn  this  from  a  rebel,  that  I  don’t  blow  out  your  brains, 
only  because  I  wouldn’t  accommodate  the  devil  by  flinging  such  a 
lump  of  petrifaction  into  his  clutches.  There,  man,”  he  added,  as 
he  threw  the  pistols  far  from  him  into  the  river,  his  exasperation,  at 
the  same  time,  moderating  to  a  lower  temperature,  “  get  upon  your 
feet;  and  now,  you  may  go  hunt  for  your  cronies  in  yonder  running 
stream.  You  may  count  it  a  marcy  that  I  haven’t  tossed  you  after 

them,  to  wash  the  cowardly  blood  off  your  face.  Now  that  you  are 
upon  your  legs,  I  tell  you  here,  in  the  moonlight,  man  to  man,  with 
nobody  by  to  hold  back  your  hand,  that  you  are  a  lying,  deceitful 
skulker,  that  loves  the  dark  side  of  a  wall  better  than  the  light,  and 
steals  the  secrets  of  honest  folks,  and  hasn’t  the  heart  to  stand  up 
fairly  to  the  man  that  tells  you  of  it.  Swallow  that,  James  Curry, 
and  see  how  it  will  lay  upon  your  stomach.” 

“  I  will  seek  a  time !  ”  exclaimed  Curry,  “  to  right  myself  with  your 
heart’s  blood.” 

“  Pshaw !  man,”  replied  Horee  Shoe,  “  don’t  talk  about  heart’s 
blood.  The  next  time  we  come  into  a  field  together,  ax  for  Gal¬ 
braith  Robinson,  commonly  called  Horse  Shoe  Robinson.  Find  me 
out,  that’s  all.  ^ye  may  take  a  fi-olic  together  then,  and  I  give  you 
my  allowance  to  wear  your  pistols  in  your  belt.” 

“  We  may  find  a  field  yet.  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,”  returned  Curry, 
“  and  ni  not  fail  of  my  appointment.  Om-  game  will  be  played 
with  broadswords.” 

“  If  it  should  so  turn  out,  James,  that  you  and  me  are  to  work 
through  a  campaign  in  the  same  quarter  of  the  world,  as  we  havp  done 
afore,  James,  I  expect.  I’ll  take  the  chance  of  some  holiday  to  pay  my 
respects  to  you.  I  wont  trouble  you  to  ride  far  to  find  me ;  and 

then,  it  may  be  broadsword  or  pistol,  rifle  or  bagnet.  I’m  not  over- 
scrumptious  which.  Only  promise  I  shall  see  you  when  I  send  for 
you.” 

“  It’s  a  bargain,  Galbraith  Robinson !  Strong  as  you  think  your- 


80 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


self  in  your  cursed  rough-and-tumble  horseplay,  I  am  soldier 
enough  for  you  any  day.  I  only  ask  that  the  time  may  come 
quickly.” 

“  You  have  no  objection  to  give  us  a  hand  to  clinch  that  bargain, 
James  ?  ”  asked  Horse  Shoe.  “  There’s  my  paw  ;  take  it,  man,  I 
scorn  to  bear  malice  after  the  hot  blood  cools.” 

“I  take  it  with  more  pleasure  now,”  said  Curi-y,  hastily  seizing 
the  hand,  “  than  I  gave  mine  to  you  before  to-night,  because  it  is  a 
pledge  that  suits  my  humor.  A  good  seat  in  a  saddle,  four  strong 
legs  below  me,  and  a  sharp  blade,  I  hold  myself  a  match  for  the 
best  man  that  ever  picked  a  flint  in  your  lines.” 

“Now,  friend  Curry,”  exclaimed  the  sergeant,  “good  night!  Go 
look  for  your  pop-guns  in  the  river;  and  if  you  find  them,  hold 
them  as  a  keepsake  to  remember  Horse  Shoe  Robinson.  Good 
night.” 

Robinson  left  his  adversary,  and  returned  to  the  inn,  ruminating, 
as  he  walked,  over  the  strange  incident  in  which  he  had  just  been 
engaged.  For  a  while  his  thoughts  wore  a  grave  complexion  ;  but, 
as  iis  careless  good  humor  gradually  broke  forth  through  the  thin 
mist  that  enveloped  it,  he  was  found,  before  he  reached  the  porch, 
laughing,  with  a  quiet  chuckle,  at  the  conceit  w’hich  rose  upon  his 
mind,  as  he  said,  half-audibly,  “  Odd  sport  for  a  summer  night ! 
Howsever,  every  one  to  his  liking,  as  the  old  woman  said ;  but  to 
my  thinking,  he  mought  have  done  better  if  he  had  gone  to  sleep  at 
a  proper  hour,  like  a  moralised  and  sober  Christian.” 

AVhen  he  entered  the  parlor,  he  found  Butler  and  the  landlady 
waiting  for  him. 

“  It  is  late,  sergeant,”  said  the  Major.  “  You  have  forgotten  the 
hour ;  and  I  began  to  fear  you  had  more  to  say  to  your  friend,  there, 
than  suited  the  time  of  night.” 

“All  is  right,  by  your  smiling,”  added  the  landlady ;  “  and  that’s 
more  than  I  expected  at  the  time  you  walked  out  of  the  room.  I 
couldn’t  go  to  my  bed,  till  I  was  sure  you  and  my  lodger  had  no 
disagreeable  words ;  for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  greatly  afraid 
of  his  hot  and  hasty  temper.” 

“There  is  nothing  hot  or  hasty  about  him,  ma’am,”  replied 
Robinson  ;  “  he  is  about  as  peaceable  a  man  as  you  mought  expect 
to  meet  in  such  times  as  these.  I  only  told  him  a  little  scrap  of 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


81 


news,  and  you  would  have  thought  he  would  have  hugged  me  for  it, 
ha,. ha,  ha.” 

“  We  are  to  sleep  in  the  same  room,  sergeant,”  said  Butler,  “and 
our  good  hostess  will  show  us  the  way  to  it.” 

The  dame,  upon  this  hint,  took  a  candle,  and  conducted  her 
guests  to  a  chamber  in  the  upper  story,  where,  after  wishing  them 
“  a  good  night,”  she  courtesied  respectfully,  and  left  them  to  their 
repose. 

“Tell  me,  sergeant,  what  you  made  out  of  that  fellow,”  said 
Butler,  as  he  undressed  himself.  “  I  see  that  you  have  had  some 
passage  with  him  ;  and,  from  your  tarrying  so  long,  I  began  to  be 
a  little  apprehensive  of  rough  work  between  you.  What  passed, 
and  what  have  you  learned  ?  ” 

“  Enough,  major,  to  make  us  more  circumscriptious  against  scouts, 
and  spies,  and  stratagems.  When  I  was  a  prisoner  at  Charlestown, 
there  was  an  amazing  well-built  fellow,  a  dragoon,  that  had  been 
out  with  Tarleton  ;  but,  when  I  saw  him,  he  was  a  sort  of  rithma- 
tical  account-keeper  and  letter-scribbler  for  that  young  fighting- 
cock,  the  Earl  of  Caithness,  him  that  was  aidegong  to  Sir  Henry 
Clinton.  Well,  this  fellow  had  a  tolerable  bad  name,  as  being  a 
chap  that  the  devil  had  spiled,  in  spite  of  all  the  good  that  had 
been  pumped  into  him  at  school ;  for,  as  I  have  hearn,  he  was  come 
of  gentle  people,  had  a  firet  rate  edication,  and  I  reckon,  now, 
major,  he  talks  as  well  as  a  book,  whereupon  I  have  an  observation.” 

“  Keep  that  until  to-morrow,  sergeant,”  interrupted  Butler,  “  and 
go  on  with  what  you  had  to  tell  me.” 

“You  must  be  a  little  sleep/,  major;  however,  this  fellow,  they 
say,  was  cotched  cheating  with  cards  one  day,  -when  he  was  playing  a 

_ game  of  five  shilling  loo  with  the  King  or  the  Queen,  or  some  of  the 

dukes  or  colonels  in  the  guards — for  he  wa’n’t  above  any  thing  ras¬ 
cally.  So,  it  was  buzzed  about,  as  you  may  suppose  when  a  man 
___goes  to  cheating  one  of  them  big  fish — and  the  King  gave  him  his 
choice  to  enlist,  or  go  to  the  hulks;  and  he,  being  no  fool,  listed,  as 
a  matter  of  course.  In  that  way  he  got  over  here ;  and,  as  I  tell 
you,  was  a  sort  of  sarvent  to  that  young  Earl.  He  sometimes  came 
about  our  quartei's  to  list  prisoners  and  make  Toides  of  ’em,  for  his 
own  peo])le  kept  him  to  do  all  that  sort  of  dirty  work,  upon  account 
of  the  glibness  of  his  tongue.  He  was  a  remarkable  saucy  fellow, 

4* 


82 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


and  got  nothing  but  ill-will  from  the  prisoner — though,  I  make  no 
doubt,  the  man  is  a  tolerable  sodger  on  sarvice.  Now,  after  telhng 
you  all  this,  major,  you  must  know  that  the  identical,  same,  parti¬ 
cular  man  that  we  saw  looking  through  the  porch  window  at  us  to¬ 
night” — 

“  Is  the  man  you  have  been  describing  ?  Is  it  possible  ?  Ai-e  you 
sure  of  it  ?” 

“  I  knowed  him  the  minute  I  clapped  eyes  on  him :  his  name  is 
James  Curry ;  but,  as  I  didn’t  stay  long  at  Charlestown,  and  hadn’t 
any  thing  to  do  with  him  in  particular,  it  seems  he  didn’t  remem¬ 
ber  me.” 

“  You  conversed  with  him  ?” 

“  Most  sartainly  I  did.  I  wanted  to  gather  a  little  consarning  of  his 
visit  up  here ;  but  the  fellow’s  been  so  battered  about  in  the  wars, 
that  he  knows  how  to  hold  his  tongue.  I  had  some  mischief  in  me, 
and  did  want  to  make  him  just  angry  enough  to  set  his  speech  loose; 
and,  besides,  I  felt  a  little  against  him  upon  account  of  his  misdoings 
with  our  people  in  Carolina,  and  so,  I  said  some  rough  things  to 
him ;  and,  as  my  discourse  ar’n’t  none  of  the  squarest  in  pint  of 
grammar  and  topographical  circumlocution — as  Lieutenant  Hopkins 
used  to  say — why  he  set  me  down  for  a  piece  of  an  idiot,  and  began 
to  hoax  and  bamboozle  me.  I  put  that  matter  straight  for  him  very 
soon,  by  just  letting  him  say  so  much  and  no  more.  And  then,  as 
I  was  a  peaceable  man,  major,  he  seemed  to  see  that  I  didn’t  want 
to  have  no  quarrel  with  him,  which  made  him  push  it  at  me  rather 
too  hard,  and  all  my  civility  ended  in  my  giving  him  what  he  wanted 
at  first — a  tolerable,  regular  thrashing.” 

The  sergeant  continued  to  relate  to  Butler  the  details  of  this  adven¬ 
ture,  which  he  did  with  more  prolixity  than  the  weariness  of  his 
listener  was  able  to  endure ;  for  the  major,  having  in  the  progress 

of  the  narrative  got  into  bed,  and  having,  in  the  increasing  oscitancy^^ _ 

of  his  faculties,  exhausted  every  expression  of  assent  by  which  one 
who  listens  to  a  tale  is  accustomed  to  notify  his  attention — he  at 
length  dropped  into  a  profound  sleep,  leaving  the  sergeant  to  con¬ 
clude  at  his  leisure. 

When  Robinson  perceived  this,  he  had  nothing  left  but  to  betake 
himself,  with  all  expedition,  to  his  own  rest ;  whereupon  he  threw  off 
his  coat,  and  taking  the  coverings  of  the  bed  approjiriated  to  his  use, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


83 


spread  them  upon  the  floor,  as  he  pronounced  an  anathema  against 
sleeping  on  feathers,  (for  it  must  be  observed,  that  our  good  hostess, 
at  that  early  day,  was  liable  to  the  same  censure  of  an  unnatural 
attachment  to  feather  beds  in  summer,  which  may,  at  the  present 
time,*  be  made  against  almost  every  country  inn  in  the  United 
States,)  and  then  extinguishing  the  candle,  he  stretched  himself  upon 
the  planks,  as  he  remarked  to  his  unconscious  companion,  “  that  he 
was  brought  up  on  a  hard  floor and  after  one  or  two  rolls,  he  fell 
into  that  deep  oblivion  of  cares,  by  which  nature  re-summons  and 
supplies  the  strength  which  toil,  watching  and  anxiety  wear  down. 

The  speed  of  Horse  Shoe’s  journey  through  this  pleasant  valley 
of  sleep  might  be  measured  somewhat  in  the  same  manner  that  the 
route  of  a  mail  stage  may  sometimes  be  traced  through  a  mountain 
defile,  by  the  notes  of  the  coachman’s  horn ;  it  was  defined  by  the 
succession  of  varying  intonations  through  which  he  ascended  the 
gamut,  beginning  with  a  low  but  audible  breathing,  and  rising 
through  the  several  stages  of  an  incipient  snore,  a  short  quick  bark, 
and  up  to  a  snort  that  constituted  the  greatest  altitude  of  the  ascent. 
Occasionally  a  half  articulated  interjection  escaped  him,  and  words 
that  showed  in  what  cun-ent  his  dreams  were  sailing ;  “  No  pistols  ! 
Look  in  the  water,  James !  Ila  ha !”  These  utterings  were  accom¬ 
panied  with  contortions  of  body  that  more  than  once  awaked  the 
sleeper ;  but,  at  last,  the  huge  bulk  of  Horee  Shoe  grew  motionless 
in  a  deep  and  strong  sleep. 

The  next  morning,  at  early  dawn,  our  traveller  resumed  their 
journey,  which  I  will  leave  them  to  prosecute,  whilst  I  conduct  my 
reader  to  the  affairs  and  interests  that  dwell  about  the  Dove  Cote. 

k 

*  This  stricture,  true  in  1835,  the  date  of  the  first  edition  of  these  volumes, 
nas,  I  am  happy  to  notice,  lost  much  of  its  point  in  the  lapse  of  sixteen  years. 


84 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  PHILIP  LINDSAY - SENSIBILITY  AND  RETIREMENT 

APT  TO  ENGENDER  A  PERNICIOUS  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  thread  which  I  have  now  to  take  up  and  weave  into  this 
history  requires  that  my  narrative  should  go  back  for  some  years. 
It  briefly  concerns  the  earlier  fortunes  of  Philip  Lindsay. 

His  father  emigrated  from  England,  and  was  established  in 
Virginia  about  the  year  1735,  as  a  secretary  to  the  governor  of 
the  province.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  good  name  and  fortune. 
Philqi  was  born  within  a  year  after  this  emigration.  As  America 
was  then  comparatively  a  wilderness,  and  aff'orded  hut  few 
facilities  for  the  education  of  youth,  the  son  of  the  secretary  was 
sent  at  an  early  age  to  England,  where  he  remained,  with  the 
exception  of  an  occasional  \dsit  to  his  parents,  under  the  guardian¬ 
ship  of  a  near  relative,  until  he  had  completed,  not  only  his  college 
course,  but  also  his  studies  in  the  Temple — an  almost  indispensable 
requirement  of  that  day  for  young  gentlemen  of  condition. 

His  studies  in  the  Temple  had  been  productive  of  one  result, 
which  Lord  Coke,  if  I  remember,  considers  idiosyncratic  in  the 
younger  votaries  of  the  law — he  had  fallen  in  love  with  an  heiress. 
The  natural  consequence  was  a  tedious  year,  after  his  return  home, 
spent  at  the  seat  of  the  provincial  government,  and  a  most 
energetic  and  persevering  interchange  of  letters  with  the  lady,- 
whom  my  authority  allows  me  to  name  Gertrude  Marshall.  This 
•was  followed  by  another  voyage  across  the  Atlantic,  and  Anally,  as 
might  he  predicted,  by  a  Avedding  with  all  proper  observance  and 
parental  sanction.  Lindsay  then  returned,  a  happier  and  more 
tranquil  man,  to  Virginia,  where  he  fulfllled  the  duties  of  more 
than  one  public  station  of  dignity  and  trust. 

In  due  course  of  time  he  fell  heir  to  his  father’s  wealth,  which 


HOUSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


85 


with  the  estate  of  his  wife  made  him  one  of  the  most  opulent  and 
considerable  gentlemen  of  the  Old  Dominion.  • 

He  had  but  two  children — Mildred  and  Henry— with  four 
years  difference  betiveen  their  ages.  These  were  nurtured  with 
all  the  care  and  indulgent  bounty  natural  to  parents  whose 
affections  are  concentrated  upon  so  small  a  family  chcle. 

Lindsay’s  character  was  grave  and  thoughtful,  and  inclined  him 
to  avoid  the  contests  of  ambition  and  collision  with  the  world.  A 
delicate  taste,  a  nice  judgment,  and  a  fondness  for  inquiry  made 
him  a  student  and  an  ardent  IqVer  of  books.  The  ply  of  his 
mind  was  towards  metaphysics'^;  he  delved  into  the  obsolete 
subtleties  of  the  old  schools  of  philosd^hy,  and  found  amusement, 
if  not  instruction,  in  those  frivo^Jojis  but  ingenious  speculations 
Avhich  have  overshadowed  even  the' best  wisdom  of  the  schoolmen 
with  the  hues  of  a  solemn  and  absurd  pedantry.  He  dreamed  in  _ 
the  reveries  of  Plato,  anc^-^usued  them  through  the  aberrations  of 
the  CoryphseaM,  He  Relighted  in  tha  visions  of  Pythagoras,  and 
in  the  intellectual  revels  of  Epicurus.  He  found  attraction  in  the 
Gnostic  mysteries,  and  still  more  in  tfie-phantasmagoria  of  Judicial 
Astrology.  His  library  furnished  a  curious  index  to  this  unhealthy 
appetite  for  the  marvellous  and  the  mystical.  The  writings  of 
Cornelius  Agrippa,  Raymond  Lully,  and  Martin  Delvio,  and  others 
of  less  celebrity  in  this  circle  of  imposture,  were  found  associated 
with  truer  philosophies  and  more  approved  and  authentic  teachers. 

These  studies,  although  pursued  with  an  acknowledgment  of 
their  fidse  and  dangerous  tendency,  nevertheless  had  their  influ¬ 
ence  upon  Lindsay’s  imagination.  There  are  few  men  in  whom 
the  mastery  of  reason  is  so  absolute  as  to  be  able  totally  to  subdue 
the  occasional  uprising  of  that  element  of  superstition  which  is  found 
more  or  less  vigorous  in  every  mind.  A  nervous  temperament, 
which  is  almost  characteristic  of  minds  of  an  imaginative  cast,  is 
often  distressingly  liable  to  this  influence,  in  spite  of  the  strongest 
resolves  of  the  will  and  the  most  earnest  convictions  of  the  judg¬ 
ment.  If  those  who  possess  this  temperament  would  confess,  they 
might  certify  to  man}’  extraordinary  anxieties  and  troubles  of 
spirit,  which  it  would  pain  them  to  have  the  world  believe. 

Lindsay’s  pursuits  had  impressed  his  understanding  with  some 
sentiment  of  respect  for  that  old  belief  in  the  supernatural,  and 


86 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


had,  perhaps,  even  warmed  up  his  faith  to  a  secret  credulity  in 
these  awful  agencies  of  the  spiritual  world,  or  at  least  to  an  unsa¬ 
tisfied  doubt  as  to  their  existence.  Many  men  of  sober  brow  and 
renown  for  wisdom  are  unwilling  to  acknowledge  the  extent  of 
then  own  credulity  on  the  same  topic. 

His  relations  to  the  government,  his  education,  pursuits  and 
temper,  as  might  be  expected,  had  deeply  imbued  Lindsay  with 
the  politics  of  the  tory  party,  and  taught  him  to  regard  with 
distrust,  and  even  with  abhorrence,  the  revolutionary  principles 
which  were  getting  in*  vogue.  In  this  sentiment  he  visited  with  a 
dislike  that  did  not  correspond  with  the  more  usual  development 
of  his  character,  all  those  who  were  in  any  degi'ee  suspected  of 
aiding  or  abetting  the  prevailing  political  heresy  of  the  times. 

About  two  years  after  the  birth  of  Mildred,  he  had  purchased  a 
tract  of  land  in  the  then  new  and  frontier  country  lying  upon  the 
Eockfish  river.  Many  families  of  note  in  the  low  country  bad 
possessed  themselves  of  estates  at  the  foot  of  the  Blue  Eidge,  in 
this  neighborhood,  and  were  already  making  establishments  there. 
Mr.  Lindsay,  attracted  by  the  romantic  character  of  the  scenery, 
the  freshness  of  the  soil,  and  the  healthfulness  of  the  climate, 
following  the  example  of  others,  had  laid  off  the  gTounds  of  his 
new  estate  with  great  taste,  and  had  soon  built,  upon  a  beautiful 
site,  a  neat  and  comfortable  rustic  dwelling,  with  such  accommoda¬ 
tion  as  might  render  it  a  convenient  and  pleasant  retreat  during 
the  hot  months  of  the  summer. 

The  occupation  which  this  new  establishment  afforded  his 
family ;  the  scope  which  its  improvement  gave  to  their  taste ;  and 
the  charms  that  intrinsically  belonged  to  it,  by  degi’ees  commu¬ 
nicated  to  his  household  an  absorbing  interest  in  its  embellish¬ 
ment.  His  wife  cherished  this  enterprise  with  a  peculiar  ardor. 
The  plans  of  improvement  were  hers  ;  the  garden,  the  lawns,  the 
gi'oves,  the  walks — all  the  little  appendages  which  an  assiduous 
taste  might  invent,  or  a  comfort-seeking  fancy  might  imagine 
necessary,  nR3re  taken  under  her  charge ;  and  one  beauty  quickly  fol¬ 
lowing  upon  another,  from  day  to  day,  evinced  the  dominion  which  a 
refined  art  may  exercise  with  advantage  over  nature.  It  was  a  quiet, 
calm,  and  happy  spot,  where  many  conveniences  were  congi’egated 
together,  and  where,  for  a  portion  of  every  succeeding  year,  this  little 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


87 


family  nestled,  as  it  were,  in  the  enjoyment  of  voluptuous  ease. 
From  this  idea,  and  especially  as  it  was  allied  with  some  of  the 
tenderest  associations  connected  with  the  infancy  of  Mildred,  it  was 
called  by  the  fenciful  and  kindly  name  of  “  The  Dove  Cote.” 

The  education  of  Mildred  and  Henry  became  a  delightful  house¬ 
hold  care.  Tutors  were  supplied,  and  the  parents  gave  themselves 
up  to  the  task  of  supervision  with  a  fond  industry.  They  now 
removed  earlier  to  the  Dove  Cote  with  every  returning  spring,  and 
remained  there  later  in  the  autumn.  The  neighboi'hood  furnished 
an  intelligent  and  hospitable  society ;  and  the  great  western  wilder¬ 
ness  smiled  with  the  contentment  of  a  refined  and  polished  civiliza¬ 
tion,  which  no  after  day  in  the  history  of  this  empire  has  yet  sur¬ 
passed — perhaps,  not  equalled.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  a 
mind  so  framed  as  Lindsay’s,  and  a  family  so  devoted,  should  find  an 
exquisite  enjoyment  in  such  a  spot. 

Whilst  this  epoch  of  happiness  was  in  progression,  the  political 
heaven  began  to  be  darkened  with  clouds.  The  troubles  came  on 
with  harsh  portents ;  war  rumbled  in  the  distance,  and,  at  length, 
broke  out  in  thunder.  Mildred  had,  in  the  meantime,  grown  up  to 
the  verge  of  womanhood, — a  fair,  ruddy,  light-haired  beauty,  of  ex¬ 
ceeding  graceful  proportions,  and  full  of  the  most  interesting  impulses. 
Henry  trod  closely  upon  her  heels,  and  was  now  shooting  through 
the  rapid  stages  of  boyhood.  Both  had  entwined  themselves  around 
their  parents’  affections,  like  fibres  that  conveyed  to  them  their  chief 
nourishment ;  and  the  children  were  linked  to  each  other  even,  if 
that  were  possible,  by  a  stronger  band. 

The  war  threw  Lindsay  into  a  perilous  predicament.  His  estates 
were  large,  and  his  principles  exposed  him  to  the  sequestration  which 
was  rigidly  enforced  against  the  royalist  party.  To  avoid  this  blow, 
or,  at  least,  to  mitigate  its  severity,  he  conveyed  the  estate  of  the 
Dove  Cote  to  Mildred ;  assigning,  as  his  reason  for  doing  so,  that, 
as  it  was  purchased  with  moneys  belonging  to  his  wife,  he  consulted 
and  executed  her  wish,  in  transferring  the  absolute  ownership  of  it 
to  his  daughter.  The  rest  of  his  property  was  converted  into  monej'^ 
and  invested  in  funds  in  Great  Britain.  As  soon  as  this  arrangement 
was  made,  about  the  second  year  of  the  war,  the  Dove  Cote  became 
the  permanent  residence  of  the  family ;  Lindsay  preferring  to  remain 
here  rather  than  to  retire  to  England,  hoping  to  escape  the  keen 


88 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


notice  of  the  dominant  party,  and  to  find,  in  this  classic  and  philo¬ 
sophical  privacy,  an  oblivion  of  the  rude  cares  that  beset  the  pillow 
of  every  man  who  mingled  in  the  strife  of  the  day. 

He  was  destined  to  a  grievous  disappointment.  His  wife,  to  whom 
he  was  romantically  attached,  was  snatched  from  him  by  death,  just 
at  this  interesting  period.  This  blow,  for  a  time,  almost  unseated 
his  reason.  The'  natural  calm  of  such  a  mind  as  Lindsay’s  is  not 
apt  to  show  paroxysms  in  grief.  Its  sorrow  was  too  still  and  deep 
for  show.  The  flight  of  years,  however,  brought  healing  on  their 
wings ;  and  Mildred  and  Henry  gradually  relumed  their  father’s 
countenance  with  flashes  of  cheerful  thought,  that  daily  grew  broader 
and  more  abiding  ;  till,  at  last,  sense  and  duty  completed  their  tri¬ 
umph,  and  once  more  gave  Lindsay  to  his  family,  unburdened  of  his 
grief,  or,  if  not  unburdened,  conversing  with  it  only  in  the  secret 
hours  of  self-communion. 

His  hopes  of  ease  and  retirement  were  disappointed  in  another 
way.  The  sequesteiment  of  the  Dove  Cote  was  not  sufficient  to 
shut  out  the  noise  nor  the  intrigues  of  the  war.  His  reputation,  as 
a  man  of  education,  of  wealth,  of  good  sense,  and  especially  as  a 
man, of  aristocratic  pretensions,  irresistiblj'^  drew  him  into  the  agi¬ 
tated  vertex  of  politics.  His  house  was  open  to  the  visits  of  the 
tory  leaders,  no  less  than  to  those  of  the  other  side ;  and,  although 
this  intercourse  could  not  be  openly  maintained  without  risk,  yet 
pretexts  w'ere  not  wanting,  occasionally,  to  bring  the  officere  and 
gentlemen  in  the  British  interest  to  the  Dove  Cote.  They  came 
stealthily  and  in  disguise,  and  they  did  not  fail  to  involve  him  in 
the  insidious  schemes  and  base  plottings  by  which  a  wary  foe  gene¬ 
rally  endeavoi-s  to  smoothe  the  way  of  invasion.  The  temporary  im¬ 
portance  which  these  connections  conferred,  and  the  assiduous  appeal 
which  it  was  the  policy  of  the  enemy  to  make  to  his  loyalty,  wrought 
upon  the  vanity  of  the  scholar,  and  brought  him,  by  degrees,  from 
the  mere  toleration  of  an  intercourse  that  he  at  first  sincerely  sought 
to  avoid,  into  a  participation  of  the  plans  of  those  who  courted  his 
fellowship.  Still,  however,  this  was  grudgingly  given — as  much 
from  the  inaptitude  of  his  character,  as  from  a  secret  consciousness, 
at  bottom,  that  it  was  contrary  to  the  purpose  that  had  induced 
him  to  seek  the  shelter  of  the  woods.  Unless,  therefore,  the  spur 
was  fi’equently  applied  to  the  side  of  his  reluctant  resolution,  his  zeal 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


89 


was  apt  to  weary  in  its  pace,  or,  to  change  my  figure  for  one  equally 
appropriate,  to  melt  away  in  the  sunny  indolence  of  his  temper. 

I  have  said  that,  during  the  tenderer  years  of  the  children,  and 
up  to  the  period  of  the  loss  of  their  mother,  they  had  received  the 
most  unremitting  attention  from  their  parents.  The  bereavement  of 
his  wife,  the  deep  gloom  that  followed  this  event,  and  the  now 
engrossing  character  of  the  war,  had  in  some  degree  relaxed  Lind¬ 
say’s  vigilance  over  their  nurture,  although  it  had  in  no  wise  abated 
his  affection  for  them ;  on  the  contrary,  perhaps  this  was  more  con¬ 
centrated  than  ever.  Mildred  had  grown  up  to  the  blossom-time  of 
life,  in  the  possession  of  every  personal  attraction.  From  the  fanci¬ 
ful  ideas  of  education  adopted  by  her  father,  or  rather  from  the 
sedulous  care  with  which  he  experimented  upon  her  capacity,  and  — 
devoted  himself  to  the  task  of  directing  and  waiting  upon  the  ex¬ 
pansion  of  her  intellect,  she  had  made  acquii-ements  much  beyond 
her  years,  and  altogether  of  a  character  unusual  to  her  sex.  An 
ardent  and  persevering  temper  had  imparted  a  singular  enthusiasm 

to  her  pursuits ;  and  her  air,  though  not  devoid  of  playfulness,  might _ 

be  said  to  be  habitually  abstracted  and  self-communing. 

As  the  war  advanced,  her  temper  and  situation  both  enlisted  her 
as  a  partisan  in  the  questions  which  it  brought  into  discussion  ;  and, 
whilst  her  father’s  opinions  were  abhorrent  to  this  struggle  for  inde¬ 
pendence,  she,  on  the  other  hand,  unknown  to  him,  was  casting  hei 
thoughts,  feelings,  affections,  and  hopes  upon  the  broad  waters  of 
rebellion  ;  and,  if  not  expecting  them  to  return  to  her,  after  many 
days,  with  increase  of  good,  certainly  believing  that  she  was  min¬ 
gling  them  with  those  of  patriots  who  were  predestined  to  the 
brightest  meed  of  glory. 

A  father  is  not  a]it  to  reason  with  a  daughter  ;  the  passions  and  ■ — '' 
prejudices  of  a  parent  are  generally  received  as  principles  by  the 
child ;  and  most  hithers,  counting  upon  this  instinct,  deem  it  enough 
to  make  known  the  bent  merely  of  their  own  opinions,  without  caring 
to  argue  them.  This  mistake  will  serve  to  explain  the  wide  differ¬ 
ence  which  is  sometimes  seen  between  the  most  tenderly  attached 
parent  and  child,  in  those  deeper  sentiments  that  do  not  belong  to 
the  every-day  concerns  of  life.  Whilst,  therefore,  Mr.  Lindsay  took 
no  heed  how  the  seed  of  doctrine  fructified  and  grew  in  the  soil 
where  he  desired  to  plant  it,  it  in  truth  fell  upon  ungenial  ground, 


■90 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


an^'  either  was  blown  away  by  the  wind,  or  perished  for  want  of 
Appropriate  nourishment. 

As  the  crisis  became  more  momentous,  and  the  discussion  of 
national  rights  more  rife,  Mildred’s  predilections  ran  stronger  on  the 
republican  side ;  and,  at  the  opening  of  my  story,  she  was  a  sincere 
and  enthusiastic  friend  of  American  independence, — a  character 
I  (however  it  may  be  misdoubted  by  my  female  readers  of  the 
I  iiresent  day,  nursed  as  they  are  in  a  lady-like  apathy  to  all  concerns 
of  government,  and  little  aware,  in  the  lazy  lap  of  peace,  how  vividly 
!  their  own  quick  sensibilities  may  be  enhsted  by  the  strife  of  men) 
neither  rare  nor  inefficient  amongst  the  matrons  and  maidens  of  the 
;  year  seventy-six,  some  of  whom — now  more  than  fifty  years  gone 
by — are  embalmed  in  the  richest  spices  and  holiest  ointment  of  our 
country’s  memory. 

It  is,  however,  due  to  truth  to  say,  that  Mildred’s  eager  attachment 
to  this  cause  was  not  altogether  the  free  motion  of  patriotism.  How 
often  does  some  little  undei’-current  of  passion,  some  slight  and  ami¬ 
able  prepossession,  modest  and  unobserved,  rise  to  the  surface  of  our 
feelings,  and  there  give  its  direction  to  the  stream  upon  which  floats 
all  our  philosophy !  "What  is  destiny  but  these  under-currents  that 
come  whencesoever  they  list,  unheeded  at  first,  and  irresistible  ever 
afterwards ! 

I  My  reader  must  be  told  that,  before  the  war  broke  out,  this  enthu- 
)  siastic  girl  had  flitted  across  the  path  of  Arthur  Butler,  then  a  youth 
of  rare  faculty  and  promise,  who  combined  with  a  gentle  and  modest 
demeanor  an  earnest  devotion  to  his  country,  sustained  by  a  chival¬ 
rous  tone  of  honor  that  had  in  it  all  the  fanciful  disinterestedness  of 
boyhood.  It  will  not,  therefore,  appear  wonderful  that,  amongst  the 
golden  opinions  the  young  man  was  storing  up  in  all  quarters,  some 
fragments  of  this  grace  should  have  made  a  lodgment  in  the  heart 
of  Mildred  Lindsay. 

Butler  was  a  native  of  one  of  the  lower  districts  of  South  Carolina, 
and  was  already  the  possessor,  by  inheritance,  of  what  was  then 
called  a  handsome  fortune.  He  first  met  Mildred,  under  the  safe- 
\  conduct  of  her  parents,  at  Annapolis  in  Maryland,  at  that  time  the 
‘  seat  of  opulence  and  fashion.  There  the  wise  and  the  gay,  the  beau¬ 
tiful  and  the  rarely-gifted  imited  in  a  splendid  little  constellation,  in 
which  wealth  threw  its  sun-beam  gUtter  over  the  wings  of  love,  and 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


91 


learning  and  eloquence  were  warmed  by  the  smiles  of  fair  women  : 
there  gallant  men  gave  the  fascinations  of  wit  to  a  festive  circle 
unsurpassed  in  the  new  world,  or  the  old,  for  its  proportion  of  the 
graces  that  embellish,  and  the  endowments  that  enrich  hfe.  In  this 
circle  there  was  no  budding  beauty  of  softer  charm  than  the  young 
Mildred,  nor  was  there  amongst  the  gay  and  bright  cavaliers  that 
thi-onged  the  “  little  academy”  of  Eden,  (the  governor  of  the  pro¬ 
vince,)  a  youth  of  more  favorable  omen  than  Arthur  Butler. 

The  war  was  at  the  very  threshold,  and  angry  men  thought  of 
turning  the  ploughshare  into  the  sword.  Amongst  these  was  But¬ 
ler  ;  an  unsparing  denouncer  of  the  policy  of  Britain,  and  an  unhe¬ 
sitating  volunteer  in  the  ranks  of  her  opposers.  It  was  at  this  eventful 
time  that  he  met  Mildred.  I  need  hardly  add  that  under  these 
inauspicious  circumstances  they  began  to  love.  Every  interview 
afterwards  (and  they  fi-equently  saw  each  other  at  Williamsburg 
and  Richmond)  only  developed  more  completely  the  tale  of  love  thaF, 
nature  was  telling  in  the  heart  of  each.  ^ 

Butler  received  from  Congress  an  ensign’s  commission  in  the  con¬ 
tinental  army,  and  was  employed  for  a  few  months  in  the  recruiting 
service  at  Charlottesville.  This  position  favored  his  views  and  ena¬ 
bled  him  to  visit  at  the  Dove  Cote.  His  intercourse  with  Mildred, 
up  to  this  period,  had  been  allowed  by  Lindsay  to  pass  without 
comment :  it  was  regarded  but  as  the  customary  and  common-place 
civility  of  polite  society.  Mildred’s  parents  had  no  sympathy  in  her 
lover’s  sentiments,  and  consequently  no  especial  admii-ation  of  his 
character,  and  they  had  not  yet  doubted  their  daughter’s  loyalty  to 
be  made  of  less  stern  materials  than  their  own.  Her  mother  was  the 
firet  to  perceive  that  the  modest  maiden  awaited  the  coming  of  the 
young  soldier  with  a  more  anxious  forethought  than  betokened 
an  unoccupied  heart.  How  painfully  did  this  perception  break  upon 
her  1  It  opened  upon  her  view  a  foresight  of  that  unhappy  sequence 
of  events  that  attends  the  secret  struggle  between  parental  authority 
and  filial  inclination,  when  the  absorbing  interests  of  true  love  are 
concerned;  a  struggle  that  so  fi'equently  darkens  the  fate  of  the 
noblest  natures,  and  whose  history  supplies  the  charm  of  so  many  a 
melancholy  and  thrilling  page.  Mrs.  Lindsay  had  an  invincible 
objection  to  the  contemplated  alliance,  and  immediately  awakened 
the  attention  of  her  husband  to  the  subject.  From  this  moment 


92 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Butler’s  reception  at  the  Dove  Cote  was  cold  and  formal ;  and  Mr. 
Lindsay  did  not  delay  to  express  to  his  daughter  a  marked  aveision 
to  her  intimacy  with  a  man  so  uncongenial  to  his  own  taste.  I  need 
not  dwell  upon  the  succession  of  incidents  that  followed ;  are  they 
not  written  in  every  hook  that  tells  of  young  hearts  loving  in  despite 
of  authority  ?  Let  it  suffice  to  say  that  Butler,  “  many  a  time  and 
oft,”  hied  stealthily  and  with  a  lover’s  haste  to  the  Dove  Cote,  where, 
■>-  “  undei-  the  shade  of  melancholy  houghs,”  or  sometimes  of  good  Mis¬ 
tress  Dimock’s  roof,  he  found  means  to  meet  and  exchange  vows  of 
constancy  with  the  lady  of  his  love. 

Thus  passedthe  first  year  of  the  war.  The  death  of  Mrs.  Lindsay,  to 
which  I  have  before  adverted,  now  occurred.  The  year  of  mourning 
was  douhly  afflictive  to  Mildred.  Her  father’s  grief  hung  as  heavily 
upon  her  as  her  own,  and  to  this  was  added  a  total  separation  from 
Butler.  He  had  joined  his  regiment  and  M'as  sharing  the  perils  of 
the  northern  camjDaigns,  and  subsequently  of  those  which  ended  in 
the  subjugation  of  Carolina  and  Georgia.  During  all  this  period  he 
w'as  enabled  to  keep  up  an  uncertain  .and  irregular  correspondence 
with  Mildred,  and  he  had  once  met  her  in  secret,  for  a  few  hours 
only,  at  Mistress  Dimock’s,  during  the  autumn  immediately  preced¬ 
ing  the  date  of  the  opening  of  my  story. 

Mrs.  Lindsay,  upon  her  death-bed,  had  spoken  to  her  husband  in 
the  most  emphatic  terms  of  admonition  against  Mildred’s  possible 
alliance  with  Butler,  and  conjured  him  to  prevent  it  by  whatever 
means  might  be  in  his  power.  Besides  this,  she  made  a  will  direct¬ 
ing  the  distribution  of  a  large  jointure  estate  in  England  between  her 
two  children,  coupling,  with  the  bequest,  a  condition  of  forfeiture,  if 
klildred  married  without  her  father’s  approbation. 

1  I  have  now  to  relate  an  incident  in  the  life  of  Philip  Lindsay, 
which  throws  a  sombre  coloring  over  most  of  the  future  fortunes  of 
Mildred  and  Arthur,  as  they  are  hereafter  to  be  developed  in  my 
story. 

The  lapse  of  years,  Lindsay  supposed,  would  wear  out  the  first 
favorable  impressions  made  by  Arthur  Butler  upon  his  daughter. 
Years  had  now  passed  :  he  knew  nothing  of  the  secret  correspond- 
ence^between  the  parties,  and  he  had  hoped  that  all  was  forgotten. 
He  couW  not  help,  however,  perceiving  that  Mildred  had  grown 
reserved,  Rnd  that  her  deportment  seemed  to  be  controlled  by  some 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


93 


secret  cave  that  sat  upon  hei*  heart.  She  was  anxious,  solicitous, 
and  more  inclined,  than  became  her  youth,  to  be  alone.  Her  house¬ 
hold  affections  took  a  softer  tone,  like  one  in  grief.  These  things  did 
not  escape  her  father’s  eye. 

It  was  on  a  night  in  June,  a  little  more  than  a  year  before  the 
visit  of  Butler  and  Robinson  which  I  have  narrated  in  a  former 
chapter,  that  the  father  and  daughter  had  a  free  communion 
together,  in  which  it  was  his  purpose  to  penetrate  into  the  causes  of 
her  disturbed  spirit.  The  conference  was  managed  with  an  affec¬ 
tionate  and  skilful  address  on  the  part  of  the  feither,  and  “  sadly 
borne”  by  Mildred.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  it  revealed  to  him  a 
truth  of  which  he  was  previously  but  little  aware,  namely,  that  nei¬ 
ther  the  family  afflictions  nor  tlie  flight  of  two  years  had  rooted  out 
the  fond  predilection  of  Mildred  for  Arthur  Butler.  When  this 
interview  ended  Mildred  retired  weeping  to  her  chamber,  and  Lind¬ 
say  sat  in  his  study  absorbed  in  meditation.  The  object  in  life 
nearest  to  his  heart  was  the  happiness  of  his  daughter ;  and  for  the 
accomplishment  of  this  what  sacrifice  would  he  not  make?  He 
minutely  recalled  to  memory  all  th^ passages  of  her  past  life.  What 
error  of  education  had  he  committed,  that  she  thus,  at  womanhood, 
was  found  wandering  along  a  path'  T6  which  he  had  never  led  her, 
which,  indeed,  he  had  ever  taughriier  to  avoid  ?  What  accident  of 
fortune  had  brought  her  into  this,  as  he  must  consider  it,  unhappy 
relation  ?  “  How  careful  have  I  been,”  he  said,  “  to  shut  out  all  the 
inducements  that  might  give  a  complexion  to  her  tastes  and  princi¬ 
ples  difl’erent  from  my  own  !  How  sedulously  have  I  waited  upon 
her  footsteps  from  infancy  onward,  to  shield  her  from  the  influences 
that  might  mislead  her  pliant  mind !  And  yet  in  this,  the  most 
determinate  act  of  her  life,  that  which  is  to  give  the  hue  to  the  whole 
of  her  coming  fortune,  the  only  truly  momentous  event  in'her  his¬ 
tory — how  strangely  has  it  befallen !” 

In  such  a  strain  did  his  thoughts  pursue  this  harassing  subject. 
The  window  of  his  study  was  open,  and  he  sat  near  H,  looking  out 
upon  the  night.  The  scene  around  him  was  of  a  nature  to  awakei^ 
his  imagination  and  lead  his  musings  towards  the  preternatural  and 
invisible  world.  It  was  past  midnight,  and  the  bright  moon  was 
just  sinking  down  the  western  slope  of  the  heavens,  journeying 
through  the  fantastic  and  gorgeous  clouds,  that,  as  they  successively  ~ 


94 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


caught  her  beam,  stood  like  promontories  jutting  upon  a  waveless 
ocean,  their  rich  profiles  tipped  with  burnished  silver.  The  long 
black  shadows  of  the  trees  slept  in  enchanted  stillness  upon  the 
earth :  the  night-wind  breathed  through  the  foliage,  and  brought 
the  distant  gush  of  the  river  fitfully  upon  his  ear.  There  was  a 
witching  harmony  and  music  in  the  landscape  that  sorted  with  the 
solitary  hour,  and  conjured  up  thoughts  of  the  world  of  shadows. 
Lindsay’s  mind  began  to  run  upon  the  themes  of  his  favorite  stu¬ 
dies  :  the  array  of  familiar  spirits  rose  upon  his  mental  vision ;  the 
many  recorded  instances  of  what  was  devoutly  believed  the  interfer¬ 
ence  of  the  dead  in  the  concerns  of  the  living,  came  fresh,  at  this 
moment,  to  his  memory,  and  made  him  shudder  at  his  lonesomeness. 
Struggling  with  this  conception,  it  struck  him  with  an  awe  that  he 
was  unable  to  master :  “  some  invisible  counsellor,”  he  muttered, 
“  some  mysterious  intelligence,  now  holds  my  daughter  in  thrall,  and 
flings  his  spell  upon  her  existence.  The  powers  that  mingle  unseen 
in  the  aflfairs  of  mortals,  that  guide  to  good  or  lead  astray,  have 
wafted  this  helpless  bark  into  the  current  that  sweeps  onward, 
unstayed  by  man.  I  cannoL^ontend  with  destiny.  She  is  thy 
child,  Gertrude,”  he  exclaimed,  apostrophizing  the  spirit  of  his 
departed  wife.  “  She  is  thinej  and  thou  wilt  hover  near  her  and  pro¬ 
tect  her  fi'om  those  who  contrive  against  her  peace :  thou  wilt  avert 
the  ill  and  shield  thy  daughter !” 

Excited  almost  to  phrensy,  terrified  and  exhausted  in  physical 
energy,  Lindsay  threw  his  head  upon  his  hand  and  rested  it  against 
the  window-sill.  A  moment  elapsed  of  almost  inspired  madness,  and 
when  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  outward  upon  the  lawn,  he 
beheld  the  pale  image  of  the  being  he  had  invoked,  gliding  through 
the  shrubbery  at  the  farthest  verge  of  the  level  ground.  The  ghastly 
visage  -was  bent  upon  him,  the  hand  steadily  pointed  towards  him, 
ah^as  the  figure  slowly  passed  away  the  last  reverted  gaze  was 
(j^e^cted  to'  him.  “Great  God!”  he  ejaculated,  “that  form — that 
fofm  !  ”  and  fell  senseless  into  his  chair. 

During  the  night,  Mildred  was  awakened  by  a  low  moan,  which 
^ed  her  to  visit  her  father’s  chamber.  He  was  not  there.  In  great 
Marm  she  betook  herself  to  his  study,  where  she  found  him  ex¬ 
tended  upon  a  sofa,  so  enfeebled  and  bewildered  by  this  recent  incident 
that  he  was  scarcely  conscious  of  her  presence. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


95 


A  few  weeks  restored  Lindsay  to  his  usual  health,  but  it  was 
long  before  he  regained  the  equanimity  of  his  mind.  He  had  seen 
enough  to  confirm  his  faith  in  the  speculations  of  that  pernicious 
philosophy  which  is  wrapt  up  in  the  studies  of  which  I  have  before 
given  the  outline ;  and  he  was,  henceforth,  oftentimes  melancholy, 
moody,  and  reserved  in  spite  of  all  the  resolves  of  duty,  and  in  defi¬ 
ance  of  a  temper  naturally  placid  and  kind. 

'  Let  us  pass  from  this  unpleasant  incident  to  a  theme  of  more 
cheerful  import :  the  loves  of  Mildred  and  Arthur. '  I  have  said 
'these  two  had  secret  meetings.  They  were  not  entirely  without 
a  witness.  There  was  a  confidant  in  all  their  intercourse  :  no  other 
tSan  Henry  Lindsay,  who  united  to  the  reckless  jollity  of  youth  an 
almost  worshipping  love  of  his  sister.  His  thoughts  and  actions 
were  ever  akin  to  hers.  Henry  was  therefore  a  safe  depository 
of  the  precious  secret;  and  as  he  could  not  but  think  Arthur 
Butler  a  good  and  gallant  comrade,  he  determined  that  his  father 
was  altogether  on  the  wrong  side  in  respect  to  the  love  affair,  and,  by 
a  natural  sequence,  wrong  also  in  his  politics. 

Henry  had  several  additional  reasons  for  this  last  opinion.  The 
whole  countryside  was  kindled  into  a  martial  flame,  and  there  w  as 
nothing  to  be  heard  but  drums  and  trumpets.  There  were  rifle-corps 
raising,  and  they  were  all  dressed  in  hunting-shirts,  and  bugles  were 
blowing,  and  horses  were  neighing ;  how  could  a  gallant  of  sixteen 
resist  it?  Besides,  Stephen  Foster,  the  woodman,  right  under  the 
brow  of  the  Dove  Cote,  was  a  lieutenant  of  mounted  riflemen,  and 
had,  for  some  time  past,  been  training  Henry  in  the  mystery  of  his 
weapon,  and  had  given  him  divers  lessons  on  the  horn  to  sound  the 
signals,  and  had  enticed  him  furtively  to  ride  in  a  platoon  on  parade, 
whereof  he  had  dubbed  Henry  corporal  or  deputy  coj-poral.  All 
this  worked  well  for  Arthur  and  Mildred.  * 

Mr.  Lindsay  was  not  ignorant  of  Henry’s  popularity  in  the^neigh- 
borhood,  nor  how  much  he  wsis  petted  by  the  volunteer  soldiery. 
He  did  not  object  to  this,  as  it  served  to  quiet  suspicion  of  his  own 
dislike  to  the  cause,  and  diverted  the  observation  of  the  adherents  of 
what  he  called  the  rebel  government,  from  his  own  motions  ;  whilst, 
at  the  same  time,  he  deeme.d  it  no  other  than  a  gew'gaw  that  played 
upon  the  boyish  fancy  of  Henry  without  reaching  his  principles. 
Mildi’ed,  on  the  contrary,  did  not  so  regard  it.  She  had  inspired 


98 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Hemy  with  her  own  sentiments,  and  now  carefully  trained  him  up 
to  feel  warmly  the  interests  of  the  war,  and  to  prepare  himself  by 
discipline  for  the  hard  life  of  a  soldier.  She  early  awakened  in 
him  a  wish  to  render  service  in  the  field,  and  a  resolution  to  accom¬ 
plish  it  as  soon  as  the  occasion  might  arrive.  Amongst  other  things, 
too,  she  taught  him  to  love  Arthur  Butler  and  keep  his  counsel. 


CHAPTER  Vlir. 


THE  MANSION  OF  A  GENTLEMAN  AND  A  SCHOLAR. 

The  site  of  the  Dove  Cote  was  eminently  picturesque*?.  It  was  an 
area  of  level  ground,  containing,  perhaps,  two  acres,  on  the  summit 
^  of  a  hill  that,  on  one  si<ie,  overhung  the  Rockfish  river,  and  on  the 
other  rose  by  a  gentle  sweep  from  the  champaign  country  below 
This  summit  might  have  been  as  much  as  two  hundred  feet  above 
the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  was  faced  on  that  side  by  a  bold,  rocky 
precipice,  not  absolutely  perpendicular,  but  broken  into  stages  or 
platforms,  where  grassy  mould  had  accumulated,  and  where  the 
sweet-bi'ier  and  the  laurel,  and  clusters  of  the  azalea,  shot  up  in  pro¬ 
fuse  lu.xuriance.  The  fissures  of  the  crag  had  also  collected  their 
handful  of  soil  and  gave  nourishment  to  struggling  vines,  and  every¬ 
where  the  ash  or  pine,  and  not  unfrequently  the  dogwood,  took 
jiossessiou  of  such  spots  upon  the  rocky  wall,  as  these  adventurous 
and  cliff-loving  trees  had  found  congenial  to  their  nature.  The  oppo¬ 
site  or  northern  bank  of  the  river  had  an  equal  elevation,  and  jutted 
forward  so  near  to  the  other  as  to  leave  between  them  a  cleft,  which 
suggested  the  idea  of  some  sudden  abruption  of  the  earth  in  those 
early  parox3’sms  that  geologists  have  deemed  necessary  to  account 
for  some  of  the  features  of  our  continent.  Below  was  heard  the 
ceaseless  brattle  of  the  watei’s,  as  they  ran  over  and  amongst  the 
rocks  which  probably  constituted  the  debris  formed  in  the  convulsion 
that  opened  this  chasm.  It  was  along  through  this  obscure  dell 
that  the  road,  with  which  m3?  reader  is  acquainted,  found  place  be¬ 
tween  the  margin  of  the  stream  and  the  foot  of  the  rocks.  The 
genei'al  aspect  of  the  country  was  divereified  by  high  knolls  and 
broken  masses  of  mountain  land,  and  the  Dove  Cote  itself  occu¬ 
pied  a  station  sufficiently  above  the  surrounding  district  to  give  it  a 
prospect,  eastward,  of  several  miles  in  extent.  From  this  point 


98 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


the  eye  might  trace  the  valley  of  the  Eockfish,  by  the  abrupt  hill¬ 
sides  that  hemmed  it  in,  and  by  the  growth  of  sombre  pines  that 
coated  the  steeps  where  nothing  else  could  find  a  foot-hold.  Not 
far  below,  in  this  direction,  was  to  be  seen  the  Fawn’s  tower,  a 
singular  pinnacle  of  rock,  which  had  acquired  its  name  from  the 
protection  it  was  said  to  have  afforded  to  a  young  deer  against  the 
assault  of  the  hounds ;  the  hard-pressed  animal,  as  the  tradition 
relates,  having  gained  this  insulated  point  by  a  bound  that  baffled 
the  most  adventurous  of  his  pursuers,  and  admiration  of  the  successful 
boldness  of  the  leap  having  won  from  the  huntsman  the  favor  that 
spared  his  fife. 

With  the  exception  of  a  large  chestnut  near  the  edge  of  the  cliff, 
and  of  some  venerable  oaks,  that  had  counted  centuries  before  the 
white  man  rested  his  limbs  beneath  their  shade,  the  native  growth 
of  the  forest  had  been  removed  by  Lindsay  from  the  summit  I  have 
described,  and  he  had  substituted  for  the  wild  garniture  of  nature  a 
few  of  the  choicest  trees  of  the  neighboring  woods.  Here  he  had 
planted  the  elm,  the  holly  and  the  linden  tree,  the  cedar  and  the 
arbor  vitte.  This  platform  was  semicircular,  and  was  bounded  by  a 
terrace  or  walk  of  gravel  that  swept  around  its  circumference.  The 
space  inclosed  was  covered  with  a  natural  grass,  which  the  frequent 
use  of  the  scythe  had  brought  to  the  resemblance  of  velvet ;  and 
the  lower  side  of  the  terrace  was  guarded  by  a  hedge-row  of  cedar. 
Over  this  green  wall,  as  the  spectator  walked  forth  in  fair  summer 
time,  might  he  look  out  upon  the  distant  woods  and  meadows  ;  and 
there  he  might  behold  the  high-road  showing  itself,  at  distant  inter¬ 
vals,  upon  the  hill-sides ;  and  in  the  bottom  lands,  that  lay  open  to 
the  sun  through  the  forest-bound  valleys,  might  he  see  herds  of 
grazing  cattle,  or  fields  of  yellow  grain,  or,  perchance,  the  slow  mov¬ 
ing  wain  burdened  with  hay,  or  slower  moving  plough. 

The  mansion  itself  partook  of  the  character  of  the  place.  It  was 
q)erched — to  use  a  phrase  peculiarly  applicable  to  its  position — 
almost  immediately  at  that  point  where  the  terrace  made  an  angle 
with  the  chff,  being  defended  by  a  stone  parapet,  through  which  an 
iron  wicket  opened  upon  a  flight  of  rough-hewn  steps,  that  termi¬ 
nated  in  a  pathway  leading  down  to  the  river. 

The  main  building  was  of  stone,  consisting  of  one  lofty  story,  and 
capped  with  a  steep  roof,  which  curved  so  far  over  the  front  as  to 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


99 


furnish  a  broad  rustic  porch  that  rested  almost  upon  the  ground. 
The  slim  pillais  of  this  porch  were  concealed  by  lattice-work,  which 
was  overgrown  with  creeping  vines ;  and  the  windows  of  the  conti¬ 
guous  rooms,  on  either  side  of  a  spacious  hall,  opened  to  the  floor, 
and  looked  out  upon  the  lawn  and  upon  the  quiet  landscape  far 
beyond.  One  of  these  apartments  was  also  accessible  through  the 
eastern  gable,  by  a  private  doorway  shaded  by  a  light  veranda,  and 
was  appropriated  by  Lindsay  to  his  library.  This  portal  seemed 
almost  to  hang  over  the  rock,  having  but  the  breadth  of  the  terrace 
between  it  and  the  declivity,  and  showing  no  other  foreground  than 
the  parapet,  which  was  here  a  necessary  defence  against  the  clifi', 
and  from  which  the  romantic  dell  of  the  river  was  seen  in  all  its 
wildness. 

There  were  other  portions  of  the  mansion  constructed  in  the  same 
style  of  architecture,  united  to  this  in  such  a  manner  as  to  afford  an 
uninterrupted  communication,  and  to  furnish  a  range  of  chambei’s 
for  the  use  of  the  family.  A  rustic  effect  was  everywhere  preserved. 
Stacks  of  chimneys  shot  up  in  grotesque  array;  and  heavy,  old- 
fashioned  windows  looked  quaintly  down  from  the  peaked  roof. 
Choice  exotics,  planted  in  boxes,  were  tastefully  arranged  upon  the 
lawn ;  cages  with  singing-birds  were  suspended  against  the  wall ; 
and  the  whole  mass  of  building,  extending  along  the  verge  of  the 
cliff,  so  as  to  occupy  the  entire  diameter  of  the  semicircle,  perhaps 
one  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  sorted  by  its  simplicity  of  costume,  if  I 
may  so  speak,  and  by  its  tidy  beauty,  with  the  close-shaven  grass-plot 
and  its  trim  shades. 

Above  the  whole,  flinging  their  broad  and  gnarled  arms  amongst 
the  chimney  tops,  and  forming  a  pleasing  contrast  with  the  artificial 
embellishments  of  this  spot,  some  ancient  oaks,  in  primeval  magnifi¬ 
cence,  reared  their  time-honored  trunks,  and  no  less  sheltered  the 
habitation  from  the  noon-tide  heats,  than  they  afforded  an  asylum  to 
the  ringdove  and  his  mate,  or  to  the  countless  travellers  of  the  air 
that  here  stopped  for  rest  or  food. 

Such  was  the  general  aspect  of  the  Dove  Cote ;  a  spot  where  a 
philosopher  might  glide  through  life  in  unbroken  contemplation ; 
where  a  wearied  statesman  might  betake  himself  to  reassemble  the 
scattered  forces  of  intellect  for  new  enterprises;  where  the  artist 
might  repair  to  study  with  advantage  the  living  graces  of  God’s 


100 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


own  painting;  and  where  young  beauty  might  bud  and  bloom 
amongst  the  most  dehcate  aud  graceful  forms  of  earth. 

The  interior  of  the  dwelling  was  capacious  and  comfortable.  Its 
furniture,  suitable  to  the  estate  of  the  owner,  was  plain,  and  adapted 
to  a  munificent  rather  than  to  an  ostentatious  hospitality.  It  was 
only  in  the  library  that  evidence  might  be  seen  of  large  expense. 
Here,  the  books  were  ranged  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling,  with 
scarcely  an  interval,  except  where  a  few  choice  paintings  had  found 
space,  or  the  bust  of  some  ancient  woi'thy.  One  or  two  ponderous 
lounging  chairs  stood  in  the  apartment ;  and  the  footstep  of  the  visitor 
was  dulled  into  silence  by  the  soft  nap  of  (what,  in  that  day,  was 
a  rare  and  costly  luxury)  a  Turkey  carpet.  This  was  in  all  respects 
an  apartment  of  ease,  and  it  was  provided  with  every  incentive  to 
beguile  a  student  into  silent  and  luxurious  communion  with  the 
spirit  of  the  sages  around  him, — whose  subtlest  thoughts  and  holiest 
breathings,  whose  most  volatile  fancies,  had  been  caught  up,  fixed, 
and  turned  into  tangible  substance,  more  indestructible  than  ada¬ 
mant,  by  the  magic  of  letters. 

I  have  trespassed  on  the  patience  of  my  i-eader  to  give  him  a 
somewhat  minute  description  of  the  Dove  Cote,  princi])ally  because 
I  hope  thereby  to  open  his  mind  to  a  more  adequate  conception  of 
the  character  of  Philip  Lindsay.  By  looking  at  a  man  in  his  owji  / 
dwelling,  and  observing  his  domestic  habits,  I  will  ventui'e  to  affirm,  ■ 
it  shall  scarcely  in  any  instance  fail  to  be  true,  that,  if  there  be  seen 
a  tasteful  arrangement  of  mattei's  necessary  to  his  comfort;  if  his 
household  be  well  ordered,  and  his  walks  clean  and  well  rolled, 
and  his  grassplots  neat ;  and  if  there  be  no  slovenly  inattention  to 
repairs,  but  thrift  against  waste,  and  plenty  for  all ;  and,  if  to  these 
be  added  habits  of  early  rising  and  comely  attire — and,  above  all,  j 
if  there  be  books,  many  books,  well  turned  and  carefully  tended — ' 
that  man  is  one  to  warm  up  at  the  coming  of  a  gentleman ;  to  open 
his  doors  to  him ;  to  take  him  to  his  heart,  and  to  do  him  the  kind¬ 
nesses  of  life.  He  is  a  man  to  hate  what  is  base,  and  to  stand  apart 
fj'om  the  mass,  as  one  who  wall  not  have  his  virtue  tainted.  He  is  a 
man,  moreover,  whose  woildly  craft  may  be  so  smothered  and  sup¬ 
pressed,  in  the  predominance  of  the  household  affections,  that  the 
skilful  and  designing,  alas,  may  ever  practise  with  success  their  plans 
against  him. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


AN  INTRIGUE. 


I  MUST  now  introduce  my  reader  to  the  library  described  in  the  last 
chapter,  where,  beside  a  small  table  covered  with  papers,  and  lighted 
by  two  tall  candles,  sate  Philip  Lindsay,  with  a  perplexed  and 
thoughtful  brow.  Opposite  to  him,  in  an  easy  chair,  reclined  his 
guest,  Mr.  Tyn-el ;  a  man  whose  appearance  might  entitle  him  to 
claim  something  like  thirty-five  years ;  and  whose  shrewd  and  intel¬ 
lectual  expression  of  countenance,  to  which  an  air  of  decision  was 
given  by  what  might  be  called  an  intense  eye,  denoted  a  person 
— — r  conveisant  with  the  business  of  life ;  whilst  an  easy  and  flexible 
address  no  less  distinctly  announced  him  one  habituated  to  the 
most  polished  society.  The  time  of  this  meeting  coiresponded  vith 
that  of  the  interview  of  Arthur  and  Mildred,  beneath  the  Fawn’s 
Tower. 

It  is  necessary  only  to  premise  that  these  two  had  frequently  con¬ 
ferred  together,  within  the  last  two  or  three  days,  upon  the  subject 
with  which  they  were  now  engaged. 

“  Sir  Henry  Clinton  does  me  too  much  honor  by  this  confidence,” 
said  Lindsay.  “  He  oveiTates  my  influence  amongst  the  gentlemen 
of  the  pro\nnce.  Truly,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  I  am  well  persuaded  that  neither 
my  precept  nor  my  example  would  weigh  a  feather  in  the  scale 
against  the  heady  coui-se  of  this  rebellion.” 

“We  are  seldom  competent  to  judge  of  the  weight  of  our  own 
influence,”  said  Tjrrel.  “  I  might  scarce  expect  you  to  speak  other¬ 
wise  than  you  do.  But  I,  who  have  the  opportunity  to  know,  take 
upon  myself  to  say  that  many  gentlemen  of  note  in  this  province, 
who  are  at  present  constrained  by  the  fear  of  the  new  government, 
look  with  anxiety  to  you.  They  repose  faith  in  your  discretion,  and 
would  follow  your  lead.  If  an  excuse  be  necessary,  you  might  afibrd 


102 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


them  some  pretext  of  pastime  to  visit  the  Dove  Cote.  Here  you 
might  concert  your  plan  to  co-operate  with  our  friends  in  the  south.” 

“  Tis  a  rash  thought,”  replied  Lindsay.  “  This  httle  nook  of  wood¬ 
land  quiet  has  never  yet  been  disturbed  with  the  debates  of  men 
who  meditated  the  spilling  of  blood.  God  forbid  that  these  peaceful 
walls  should  hereafter  echo  back  the  words  that  speak  of  such  a 
purpose.’  ’ 

“  It  is  to  spare  the  shedding  of  blood,  Mr.  Lindsay,  and  to  bring 
speedy  peace  to  a  distracted  country  that  we  invoke  you  and  olher 
friends  to  counsel.  A  single  battle  may  decide  the  question  of  n  las- 
tery  over  the  province.  We  are  well  assured  that  the  moment  Lord 
Cornwallis  reaches  the  Eoanoke” — 

“  Cornwallis  has  yet  to  win  the  ground  he  stands  upon,”  inter¬ 
rupted  Lindsay :  “  there  may  be  many  a  deadly  blow  struck  before 
he  slakes  his  thirst  in  the  waters  of  that  river :  many  a  proud  head 
may  be  low  before  that  day.” 

“Think  you,  sir,”  said  Tyrrel,  rising  as  he  spoke,  “that  this 
patched  and  ragged  levy — this  ague-stricken  army  that  is  now 
creeping  tlirough  the  pines  of  North  Carolina,  under  the  command 
of  that  pompous  pretender.  Gates,  are  the  men  to  dispute  with  his 
majesty’s  forces  their  right  to  any  inch  of  soil  they  choose  to  occupy  ? 
It  will  be  a  merry  day  when  we  meet  them,  Mr.  Lindsay.  We  have 
hithei-to  delayed  our  campaign  until  the  harvest  was  gathered  :  that 
is  now  done,  and  we  shall  speedily  bring  this  hero  of  Saratoga  to  his 
reckoning.  Then,  following  at  the  heels  of  the  runagates,  his  Lord- 
ship,  you  may  be  prepared  to  hear,  within  two  months  fi-om  this  day, 
will  be  within  friendly  hail  of  the  Dove  Cote.” 

“  You  speak  like  a  boastful  soldier,  Mr.  Tyrrel.  It  is  not  unlikely 
that  his  lordship  may  foil  Gates  and  turn  him  back ;  such  I  learn  to 
be  the  apprehension  of  the  more  sagacious  amongst  the  continental 
officers  themselves ;  but  whether  that  mischance  is  to  favor  your 
incursion  into  this  province  may  be  worth  a  soberer  study  than,  I 
doubt,  you  have  given  the  question.  The  path  of  invasion  is  ever  a 
difficult  road  when  it  leads  against  a  united  people.  You  mistake 
both  the  disposition  and  the  means  of  these  republicans.  They  have 
bold  partisans  in  the  field,  and  eloquent  leaders  in  their  senates.  The 
nature  of  the  strife  sorts  well  with  their  quick  and  earnest  tempers ; 
and  by  this  man’s-play  of  war  we  breed  up  soldiem  who  delight  in 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


103 


the  game.  Rebellion  has  long  since  marched  beyond  the  middle 
ground,  and  has  no  thought  of  retreat.  AVhat  was  at  first  the  mere 
overflow  of  popular  passion  has  been  hardened  into  principle,  like  a 
fiery  stream  of  lava  which  first  rolls  in  a  flood,  and  then  turns  into 
stone.  The  delusion  of  republicanism,  like  all  delusions,  is  embraced 
with  more  enthusiasm  than  men  ever  embrace  truth.  We  deem  too 
lightly  of  these  men  and  their  cause^ and  we  have  already,  more  than 
once,  suffered  for  the  error.  When  they  expelled  Dunmore  they 
committed  treason  against  the  British  crown;  and  they  are  wise 
enougli  to  know  that  that  cup,  once  tasted,  must  be  drained  to  the 
bottom:  they  have,  therefore,  imbrued  their  hands  the  deeper  in 
rebellion.  They  have  raised  their  idol  of  democracy  high,  and  have 
fenced  it  about  with  the  penalties  of  confiscation  and  death  to  those 
who  refuse  to  bow  before  it :  and  now  they  stand  pledged  to  the 
prosecution  of  their  unnatural  war,  by  such  a  bond  of  fate  as  unites 
mariners  who  have  rashi}'  ventured  forth  upon  a  raging  sea,  in  a 
bark  of  doubtful  strength ;  their  minds  braced  up,  by  the  thought 
of  instant  perdition,  to  the  daring  effort  necessary  to  reach  their 
haven.” 

“  That  haven  shall  they  never  reach,”  cried  Tyrrel  impatiently. 
“  Let  them  invoke  the  aid  of  their  patron  devils !  We  have  a  spell 
shall  conjure  them  back  again  to  their  own  hell,  else  there  is  no 
virtue  in  the  forged  steel  w  hich  these  rebels  have  felt  before.” 

“  The  battle  is  not  always  to  the  strong,”  said  Lindsay,  “  nor  is 
the  craft  of  soldiership  without  its  chances.” 

“If  we  had  listened,  my  friend,”  said  Tyrrel,  “to  musty  proverbs, 
Charleston  would  have  this  day  been  in  the  secure  and  peaceful  pos¬ 
session  of  the  enemy.  All  that  you  say  against  our  present  scheme 
was  heretofore  urged,  though  not  with  such  authority,  perhaps, 
against  the  invasion  of  Carolina.  And  yet  how  prettily  have  wo 
gainsaid  the  prophets !  Look  at  their  principal  town  surrendered — 
all  the  country  strongholds  delivered  up — the  people  flocking  to  our 
standard  for  protection — and  the  whole  province  lifting  up  a  voice 
of  gratitude  for  the  deliverance  we  have  wrought  them.  They  are 
even  now  arming  themselves  in  our  behalf,  whilst  the  shattered 
fragments  of  the  rebel  force  are  flying  to  the  swamps  and  their  moun¬ 
tain  fastnesses.  Why  should  not  the  same  game  be  as  well  played 
in  Virginia?  Trust  me,  Mr.  Lindsay,  your  caution  somewhat  over- 


104 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


leaps  t]ia6  wholesome  moderation,  which  I  do  not  deny  is  necessary 
to  check  a  too  sanguine  reckoning.  Come,  good  sir,  lend  us  a  more 
auspicious  counsel.  Sir  Henry  relies  much  upon  your  wisdom,  and 
will  not,  with  good  heart,  forego  your  service.” 

“  Sir  Henry  has  sadly  disturbed  my  repose,”  returned  Lindsay. 
“  To  tell  the  truth,  I  have  no  stomach  for  this  business.  Here,  I  am 
native  to  the  province  :  I  have  found  old  friends  separated  fi-om  me ; 
early  associations  torn  up  by  the  roots ;  and  the  elements  which  fed 
my  strongest  pei’sonal  attachments  poisoned,  by  this  accursed  spirit 
of  revolution.  I  would  hide  my  head  from  the  storm  and  die  in 
these  shades  in  peace.” 

“  It  is  not  for  Mr.  Philip  Lindsay,  nor  such  as  he,”  replied  Tyrrel, 
“  to  desert  his  sovereigTi  in  his  hour  of  need.” 

“  God  forgive  me  for  the  thought,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  but  it  remains  yet 
to  be  proved  who  most  faithfully  serve  their  sovereign ;  they  who 
counsel  peace,  or  they  who  push  wav  to  its  fatal  extremes.  There 
lives  not  a  man  within  the  realm  of  England,  to  whom  I  would  yield 
in  devotion  to  the  glory  of  our  country.  Once  make  it  clear  to  my 
judgment  that  we  may  hope  to  regain  the  lost  allegiance  of  this 
province  by  the  sacrifice  of  life  and  fortune,  and,  dearly  as  I  cherish 
the  welfare  of  those  around  me,  I  will  obey  the  first  summons  to  the 
field,  and  peril  this  woi’thless  existence  of  mine  in  bloody  fight. 
Yea,  if  need  be,  I  will,  with  my  own  hand,  apply  the  torch  to  this 
peaceful  abode,  and  give  it  over  a  smoking  ruin  to  the  cause.” 

“  I  know  you  too  well,”  replied  Tyrrel,  “  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of 
your  words.  But  is  it  not  obvious  that  the  war  must  inevitably 
tend  to  this  field?  Having  gained  the  Carolinas,  should  we  turn 
om’  backs  as  soon  as  we  have  reached  the  confines  of  Virginia?  On 
the  contrary,  does  not  every  obligation  of  honor  impel  us  to  main¬ 
tain  and  protect  our  friends  here?  The  conquest  of  Virginia  is  an 
easier  enterprise  than  you  deem  it.  If  the  continentals  can 
muster  ten  thousand  men,  we,  assuredly,  may  double  that  number, 
counting  our  provincials  levied  in  the  south.  We  have  money  and 
all  the  means  of  war,  whilst  this  crippled  Congress  has  drained  fi’om 
the  people  their  last  groat ;  their  wretched  troops  will  disband  from 
mere  w'ant  of  supplies.  They  may  expect  no  aid  from  the  north  ; 
for  there  Sir  Henry  will  furnish  them  sufiicient  motive  to  stay  at 
home !  We  come  animated  by  victories,  full  of  mettle  and  vigor ; 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


105 


they  meet  us  broken  by  defeats,  dejected  and  torn  to  pieces  by 
mutiny.  Never  did  treason  or  rebellion  array  itself  with  more  cer¬ 
tainty  of  punishment  than  this !” 

“I  have  read,”  said  Lindsay,  “how  John  Hampden  resisted  the 
exaction  of  twenty  shillings  of  ship  money,  and  for  that  pittance 
dared  the  displeasure  of  Charles  and  his  Star  Chamber :  how  he 
voted  the  impeachment  of  the  jucjg-es  who  were  supple  enough  to 
warrant  the  imposition  :  how,  in  this  cause,  he  drew  the  sword  and 
threw  away  the  scabbard :  how  he  brought  Strafford  to  the  block  for 
levying  war  against  the  commons  of  England :  and  through  all  that 
disastrous  time,  have  I  read  that  Charles  promised  the  cavaliera 
splendid  victories,  and  derided  the  feeble  means  of  those  who  were 
in  arms  against  him  ;  yet  Hampden  shrank  not  fi'om  the  struggle. 
To  me  it  seems  there  is  a  strange  resemblance  between  the  congress 
now  sitting  at  Philadelphia  and  the  parliament  of  1640;  and  this 
George  Washington  might  claim  kindred  with  John  Hampden.  I 
will  not  seek  for  further  likenesses.” 

“If  I  read  that  history  right,”  replied  Tyrrel,  “Hampden  met 
his  reward  at  Chalgrove,  and  Cromwell  turned  his  crop-eared  parlia¬ 
ment  out  of  doors.  We  may,  perhaps,  find  a  Chalgrove  on  this 
continent ; — and  Sir  Henry  Clinton  will  most  probably  save  the 
wiseacres  at  Philadelphia  from  the  intrusion  of  an  upstart  Crom¬ 
well.” 

“  It  would  be  too  bold  in  us  to  count  on  that,  Mr.  Tyrrel.  I  am 
the  enemy  of  these  men  and  their  purpose,  but  I  cannot  deem  other¬ 
wise  of  them  than  as  misguided  subjects  of  the  king,  frenzied  by  the 
imagination  of  grievances.  They  are  men  of  good  intellects  and 
honest  hearts,  misled  by  passion.  I  would  that  w’e  could  give  their 
tempers  time  to  cool.  I  would,  even  now,  preach  moderation  and 
compromise  to  his  majesty’s  ministei's.” 

“  The  die  is  long  since  cast,”  said  Tyrrel,  “  and  all  that 
remains  now  is  to  take  the  hazard  of  the  throw.  At  this  moment, 
whilst  we  debate,  friend  and  foe  are  whetting  their  swords  for  a 
deadly  encounter  on  the  fields  of  Carolina.  It  is  too  late  to  talk  of 
other  arbitrement.  Assuredly,  my  good  friend,  our  destiny  directs 
us  to  this  prorince :  and  the  time  has  come  when  you  must  decide 
what  course  you  will  take.  It  has  been  our  earnest  wish — Sir 
Henry’s  letters,  there  upon  the  table,  anxiously  unfold  it — to  have 


106 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


you  up  and  active  in  the  cause.  Why  will  you  disappoint  so  fair  a 
hope  ?” 

“  Alas  !  Mr.  Tyrrel, — it  is  a  thorny  path  you  would  have  me 
tread.  Think  you  I  am  the  man  to  win  my  way  through  these 
intricacies  ?  I  that  live  in  the  shelter  of  these  woods  by  sufferance 
merely — an  unmolested  outlaw,  to  speak  soberly,  whom  these 
fanatics  of  liberty  have  forborne  jEbr  the  sake  of  past  acquaintance 
and  present  peaceful  habits  ?  Am  I  not  girded  round  about  with 
the  hot  champions  of  independence  ?  Look  amongst  these  hills — 
there  is  not  a  cabin,  not  a  woodman’s  hut,  no,  nor  stately  dwelling, 
whose  roof  defends  one  friend  to  the  royal  cause,  but  my  own.  My 
lips  are  sealed ;  my  very  thoughts  are  guarded,  lest  I  give  room  to 
think  I  mean  to  fly  from  my  neutrality.  These  papers  that  lie  upon 
that  table  might  cost  me  my  life :  your  presence  here,  were  your 
purpose  known,  might  consign  me  to  captivity  or  exile : — one 
random  word  spoken  might  give  me  over  to  the  censures  of  the 
power  that  holds  its  usurped  domination  in  the  province.  What 
aid  may  be  expected  from  one  so  guarded,  fettered,  watched  and 
powerless  ?” 

“  And  can  you  patiently,”  exclaimed  Tyrrel,  “  bow  to  this  oppres¬ 
sion  ?  You,  a  native  born  freeman  of  the  province — a  Briton, 
nursed  in  the  sunny  light  of  liberty !  Shall  your  freedom  of  speech 
be  circumscribed,  yom-  footsteps  be  followed  by  spies  and  traitors, 
your  very  inmost  thoughts  be  read  and  brought  up  to  the  censure 
of  the  judgment  seat  ?  Shall  these  things  be,  and  the  blood  still 
continue  to  run  coolly  and  temperately  through  your  veins  !  There 
are  ills,  Mr.  Lindsay,  which  even  your  calm  philosophy  may  not 
master.  But,  perhaps,  I  have  mistaken  your  temper :  these  evi¬ 
dences,  at  least,  shall  not  put  you  in  peril,”  he  said,  as  he  took  up 
the  letters  from  the  table  and  held  them  over  the  candle,  and  then 
threw  the  flaming  mass  upon  the  hearth.  “  That  fear,  I  hope,  is 
removed ;  and  as  for  my  presence  here,  one  word  briefly  spoken,  and 
it  shall  not  longer  jeopard  your  safety.” 

Lindsay  looked  fixedly  at  his  companion  as  he  destroyed  the 
papers,  and  then  said  with  a  stern  emphasis — 

“  Your  duty,  sir,  is  in  the  field.  You  have  been  bred  to  a  profes¬ 
sion  that  teaches  you  blind  obedience  to  orders.  It  is  not  your  part 
to  weigh  the  right  of  the  cause,  nor  to  falter  in  the  execution  of  any 


107 


UORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

fbtif  purpose  of  blood,  so  that  it  come  under  the  name  of  honorable 
warfare.  Therefore  I  excuse  this  unbecoming  warmth  ;  but  do  not 
presume  upon  the  hazardous  nature  of  your  calling,  and  fancy  that 
it  implies  more  fidelity  to  the  king  than  the  allegiance  of  his  more 
peaceful  subjects.  It  is  a  thought  unworthy  of  you  that  fear  of  disas¬ 
ter  to  myself — be  it  tenfold  more  imminent  than  it  has  yet  been — ■ 
should  arrest  my  step  in  that  pa^-^'here  my  country’s  honor,  or 
my  sovereign’s  command,  bids  m^  advance.” 

“Worthy  and  excellent  friend,”  "said  Tyrrel,  taking  Lindsay’s 
hand,  “  I  have  done  you  wrong.  I  am  rash  and  headlong  in  my 
temper,  and  my  tongue  often  speaks  what  my  heart  disavows.  I 
am  little  better  than  a  boy,  Mr.  Lindsay,  and  a  foolish  one ;  I 
humbly  crave  your  pardon.” 

“  Speak  on,”  said  Lindsa^y. 

“Then  briefly  this.  Your  situation  is  all  that  you  have  described 
it.  Sir  Henry  is  aware  of  the  trial  he  imposes  upon  you.  He 
would  have  you  act  with  the  caution  which  your  wisdom  dictates ; 
and  if  it  should  become  necessary  to  speak  that  word  which  is  to 
bring  the  wrath  of  the  rebels  upon  your  head,  remember  there  is 
sanctuary  and  defence  under  the  broad  banner  of  England.  Who 
so  welcome  there  as  Philip  Lindsay  ?  Even  at  this  moment  our 
councils  should  be  tempered  by  your  presence,  and  it  becomes 
almost  a  patriotic  duty  to  pluck  you  from  the  seclusion  of  the  Dove 
Cote,  and  give  you  a  share  in  the  stirring  events  of  the  day.  Sir, 
the  country  hiis  a  claim  upon  your  services,  scarce  compatible  with 
the  idle  contemplation  of  this  momentous  trial  ’of  strength.” 

Lindsay  had  advanced  to  the  window,  where  he  remained  look¬ 
ing  over  the  moon-lit  scene.  His  companion  stood  close  beside  him, 
and  after  a  short  interval  took  his  arm,  when  they  stepped  forth  upon 
the  porch,  and  sauntered  backward  and  forward,  as  Tyrrel  continued, 

“  The  government  would  not  be  unmindful  of  the  benefits  you 
might  confer.  There  are  offices  of  trust  and  dignity  to  be  filled  in 
this  prortnce  when  it  shall  be  restored  to  its  allegiance.  The  highest 
post  would  not  be  unfitly  bestowed,  if  it  should  be  assigned  to  you. 
Sir  Henry  Clinton  bids  me  speak  of  that,  as  of  a  subject  that  has 
already  occupied  his  thoughts.  It  would  give  grace  and  dignity 
to  our  resumed  authority,  to  have  it  illustrated  by  the  accomplisTiea 
scholar  and  discreet  statesman,  who  has,  before  this,  discharged 


108 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


important  and  difficult  trusts  ■with  a  fidelity  that  has  won  all  men’s 
esteem.  And  then,  my  dear  sir,”  he  added  after  a  pause,  “who 
may  say  that  it  shall  not  be  Sir  Philip  Lindsay,  or  even  something 
yet  higher  ? — a  coronet  would  not  be  an  honor  unsuited  even  to  the 
wilds  of  Virginia.  His  majesty  is  not  slow  to  discern  worth,  nor 
backward  to  raise  it  to  its  proper  station.  These  are  toys  and  bau¬ 
bles  to  you,  Mr.  Lindsay,  but  they  are  still  worth  the  seeking.  You 
have  a  son  to  follow  you.” 

“  Ah !  there,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  you  touch  me  more  nearly  than  you 
imagine.  You  remind  me  by  this  language  that  I  have  also  a 
daughter.  As  to  Hemy,  he  has  a  temper  and  a  capacity  to  make 
his  o'wn  way  through  the  world.  I  fear  not  for  him — nor  would  I 
seek  for  honors  to  add  to  his  name.  But  my  Mildred !  You  know 
not  what  emotions  the  thought  of  her,  in  these  troubles,  costs  me. 
Who  shall  guard  and  defend  her,  whilst  I  pursue  this  way-laid  road 
of  ambition  ?  What  sanctuary  would  she  find  under  a  war-encircled 
banner,  should  misfortune  assail  me,  and  adversity  separate  us  ? 
Alas,  alas ! — that  is  the  spell  that,  like  a  net  cast  over  my  limbs, 
makes  me  feeble  and  submissive.” 

“  I  have  not  been  without  my  solicitude,  Mr.  Lindsay,  on  that  sub¬ 
ject,”  said  Tyn-el.  “  You  yesterday  did  me  the  honor  to  say  that 
my  proposal  in  regard  to  Miss  Lindsay  was  not  distasteful  to  you. 
Could  my  ardent  wish  but  be  accomplished,  she  should  be  placed  in 
safety,  assured  of  ample  and  kind  protection.  If,  haply,  her  thoughts 
should  incline  to  a  favorable  reception  of  my  offer,  which  I  -^vould 
fain  persuade  myself  her  reverence  for  you  may  render  not  altogether 
improbable,  when  she  knows  that  you  deem  well  of  my  suit,  we 
might  remove  her  to  Charleston,  where,  secure  amidst  assiduous 
friends,  she  would  pass  the  brief  interval  of  alarm,  and  leave  you  free 
to  act  on  this  theatre  as  your  honor  and  duty  may  impel  you.” 

“  Mildred  will  not  leave  me,”  said  Lindsay ;  “  my  dear  daughter 
would  suffer  a  thousand  deaths  in  the  anxiety  of  such  a  separation.” 

“  Then  why  not  accompany  her  to  Charleston  ?  ”  asked  Tyrrel. 
“  Your  presence  there  would  be  equally  efficient  as  at  head-quarters 
— perhaps  more  so.” 

“  There  are  other  obstacles,  Mr.  Tyirel.  You  talk  of  Mildred  as 
if  her  heaii;  were  to  be  disposed  of  at  my  bidding.  You  do  not  know 
her.  I  have  long  struggled  to  subdue  an  attachment  that  has  bound 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


109 


lier  to  our  woi’st  enemy,  I  fear  with  little  success.  I  have  trusted  to 
time  to  wear  out  what  I  deemed  a  mere  girlish  liking ;  but  it  seems 
to  me  the  traces  fade  but  slowly  from  her  heart.” 

“  I  know  of  whom  you  speak,”  said  Tyrrel — “  that  harebrained 
enthusiast  Butler.  It  is  a  freakish  and  transient  passion,  and  cannot 
but  fall  into  forgetfulness.  Miss  Lindsay  has  from  circumstances  been 
but  little  conversant  with  the  world,  and,  like  an  inexperienced  girl, 
has  fostered  in  solitude  a  romantic  affection.  That  alone  should  be 
a  motive  to  remove  her  into  a  busier  scene.  Besides,  this  Butler  will 
be  himself  forced  to  give  over  his  hopeless  aim — if  he  has  not  done 
so  before  this  :  measures  are  already  taken,  and  I  do  not  scruple  to 
tell  you,  at  my  instance — to  confiscate  his  lands  in  Carolina  to  his 
majesty’s  use.  The  close  of  this  war  will  find  him  penniless,  and  not 
unlikely,  my  dear  sir,  I  myself  may  be  the  possessor  of  his  inherit¬ 
ance — I  have  some  pledge  of  the  pre-emption  of  these  lands  at  a 
small  fee.” 

“  It  will  win  you  no  favor  with  Mildred,”  said  Lindsay,  “  to  tell 
her  that  you  succeed  by  such  a  title  to  this  man’s  wealth.  She  is  a 
wayward  girl,  and  is  not  used  to  crosses.  Her  devotion  to  her  pur¬ 
pose,  as  it  sometimes  excites  my  admiration,  gives  me,  in  the  present 
case,  cause  of  profound  alarm.” 

“  You  have  spoken  to  her  on  this  subject  ?  ” 

“I  have  not,”  replied  Lindsay,  “and  almost  fear  to  broach  it.  I 
can,  therefore,  give  you  no  encouragement.  Some  little  time  hence 
— perhaps  to-moiTow — I  may  sound  her  feelings.  But  remember,  as 
her  father,  I  claim  no  right  beyond  that  of  advice.  I  shall  think 
myself  fortunate  if,  by  giving  a  new  direction  to  the  current  of  her 
affections,  I  can  divert  her  rnirid  from  the  thoughts  of  an  alliance  to' 
me  the  most  hateful — to  her  fuH  of  future  misery.  A  maiden’s  fan¬ 
cies  are  scarcely  intelligible  even  to  a  father.” 

“These  subjects  require  meditation,”  said  Tyrrel.  .  “I  will  not 
press  them  further  upon  your  thoughts  to-night.” 

“Heaven  guide  us  in  the  way  of  safety  and  happiness!”  said 
Lindsay,  almost  in  a  wdiisper.  “  Good  night,  my  friend." 

AVhen  Tyrrel  was  left  alone  he  strolled  forward  to  t^e  terrace,  and 
passing  round  to  that  enjl  which  overhung  the  clift',^  near  the  door 
that  opened  from  the  library,  he  leaned  his  breast  upon  the  parapet 
and  looked  down  upon  the  wild  and  beautiful  scenery  ®f  the  valley. 


110 


HOUSE  SHOE  KOBINSON. 


The  night  %Yas  calm  and  full  of  splendor.  The  tops  of  the  trees  that 
grew  in  the  ravine,  almost  perpendicularly  beneath  his  eye,  here  and 
there  caught  the  bright  moon-beam  where  it  glowed  like  silver,  and 
the  shades,  rendered  deeper  by  the  contrast,  seemed  to  brood  over  a 
black  and  impenetrable  abyss.  Occasional  glimpses  were  seen  of  the 
river  below,  as  it  sparkled  along  such  portions  of  its  channel  as  were 
not  hidden  in  darkness.  The  coolness  of  the  hour  and  the  solitude 
of  the  spot  were  not  ungrateful  to  the  mood  of  TyrreFs  mind,  whilst 
the  monotonous  music  of  the  river  fell  pleasantly  upon  his  ear.  He 
was  not  unheedful  of  these  charms  in  the  scene,  though  his  thoughts 
were  busily  employed  with  a  subject  foreign  to  their  contemplation. 

“  Have  I  advanced,”  was  the  tenor  of  his  present  self-communion, 
“  the  purpose  I  have  so  much  at  heart,  by  this  night’s  conference  ? 
Could  I  but  engage  Lindsay  in  the  issues  of  this  war,  so  commit  him 
in  its  purposes  and  its  plots  as  to  render  his  further  residence  at  the 
Dove  Cote  insecure,  then  would  I  already  have  half-compassed  my 
point.  Where  could  he  remove  but  to  Charleston?  And  there, 
amidst  the  blandishments  of  friends  and  the  allurements  of  gay 
society,  I  might  make  sure  of  Mildred.  There,  cut  off  from  all 
means  of  hearing  of  this  Butler,  and  swayed,  as  she  must  neces¬ 
sarily  be,  by  the  current  of  loyal  feelings,  she  would  learn  to  detest 
his  foul  rebellion,  and  soon  lose  her  favor  for  the  rebel.  Then,  too, 
the  confiscation  of  his  lands — but  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that ! — she  is 
rich  and  would  make  a  merit  of  sharing  her  fortune  with  a  man  whose 
brave  resistance  of  oppression — for  so,  doubtless,  Butler  pereuades 
her  it  is — has  cost  him  his  wealth  :  the  confiscation  should  not  seem, 
at  least,  to  be  my  doing.  Well,  well,  let  her  be  brought  to  Charles¬ 
ton.  Any  change  were  better  than  to  remain  here,  where  anxiety 
and  suspense  and  solitude  nurse  and  soften  her  woman’s  affections, 
and  teach  her  to  fancy  her  lover  whatsoever  her  imagination  delights 
to  think  on.  Then  may  not  the  chances  of  war  assist  me  ?  This 
Butler,  all  men  say,  is  brave  and  adventurous.  He  should  be  short¬ 
lived.  Whatever  ill  may  befall  him  cannot  but  work  good  to  me. 
Yet  Lindsay  has  such  a  sickly  caution — such  scruple  against 
involving  himself  in  the  scheme — I  could  almost  find  it  in  my 
heart  to  have  it  told  amongst  his  neighbors  that  he  is  in  correspond¬ 
ence  with  the  enemy.  Ha,  that  would  be  a  bright  device  ! — inform 
against  myself!  No,  no,  I  will  not  abuse  his  generous  nature.  Let 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Ill 


him  come  fairly  into  the  fold,  and  I  will  guard  his  gentle  lambkin 
like  a  very  shepherd.  Then  if  we  make  him  governor  of  the  pro¬ 
vince — that  will  work  well.  Mildred  will  thank  me  for  my  zeal  in 
that  good  purpose;  at  least,  and  I  will  marry  her  and  possess  her 
estate,  if  it  be  only  to  enable  her  to  be  grateful  to  me.  ’Twill  be  a 
brave  reward,  and  bravely  shall  it  be  won.” 

As  Tyrrel  ruminated  over  these  topics,  in  the  strain  indicated  by 
this  sketch,  the  noise  of  footsteps  ascending  the  rugged  stairway  of 
the  cliff,  and  the  opening  of  the  iron  wicket,  but  a  short  distance 
from  where  he  leaned  over  the  parapet,  roused  his  attention,  and 
put  an  end  to  this  insidious  and  selfish  communion  with  his  own 
heart. 

The  cause  of  this  interruption  was  soon  apparent.  Henry  and 
Mildred  entered  through  the  gate,  and  hurried  along  the  path  to  that 
part  of  the  terrace  where  Tyrrel  stood.  The  shade  of  the  house  con¬ 
cealed  him  from  their  view  until  they  were  within  a  few  paces. 
“  Ha,  Miss  Lindsay  !  You  are  a  late  rambler,”  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
gallantry.  “  The  dampness  of  the  valley,  at  this  hour,  is  not  alto¬ 
gether  safe  ;  the  ague  is  a  sore  enemy  to  romance ;  beware  of  it.” 

“  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  night,”  replied  Mildred,  as  she  increased 
the  rapidity  of  her  gait ;  then,  turning  immediately  upon  the  porch, 
she  almost  ran,  leaving  Heniy  and  Tyrrel  in  pursuit,  until  she 
reached  the  farthest  window  which  was  heard  descending  the  moment 
she  passed  through  it  into  the  parlor.  When  Tyrrel  and  Henry 
entered  the  same  apartment,  she  had  disappeared. 

“  My  sister  is  not  well  this  evening,”  said  Henry.  “  We  strolle(^ 
too  late  uiion  the  river  bank.” 

“  It  w'as  still  an  over-hasty  retreat,”  muttered  Tyrrel  to  himself. 

“  It  bodes  not  well  for  me.  I  will  wager,  Henry,”  he  said,  raising 
his  voice,  “  that  I  can  guess  what  you  and  your  sister  have  been 
talking  about.” 

“  Let  me  hear,”  said  Henry. 

“  First,”  replied  Tyrrel,  “  she  repeated  some  verses  from  Shakspeare 
about  the  moonlight  sleeping  on  the  bank — this  is  just  the  night  for 
poetry — and  then  you  both  fell  to  talking  sentiment,  and  then.  I’ll 
be  bound,  you  had  a  ghost  story,  and  by  that  time,  you  found  you 
had  got  too  far  from  the  house  and  were  a  httle  frightened,  and  so 
came  back  as  fiist  as  you  could.” 


112 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  You  are  wrong,”  said  Heniy.  “  I  have  been  telling  sister  Mildred 
how  to  hob  for  eels.  Did  you  know  that  an  eel  will  never  pass  a 
streak  of  moonlight  for  fear  of  being  found  out  by  the  watchers  ?” 

“  Indeed  I  did  not.” 

“  Well,  sister  Mildred  is  wiser  than  you  are ;  and  as  I  have  taught 
you  that,  I  will  go  to  bed.” 

Tyrrel  was  again  left  to  resume  his  meditations,  and  to  hatch  his 
lots  for  invading  the  peace  of  the  Dove  Cote,  on  his  pillow.  To 
that  sleepless  pillow  he  now  betook  himself. 


CHAPTER  X. 


TYRREL  RETREATS.  * 

The  next  morning  Tyrrel  rose  with  the  sun.  He  had  passed  a  rest¬ 
less  night,  and  now  sought  refreshment  in  the  early  breeze.  With 
this  purpose  he  descended  to  the  river,  and  strayed  along  the  dewy 
pathway  which  crept  through  the  shrubbery  on  the  right  bank  in 
the  direction  of  the  Fawn’s  Tower.  He  had  not  wandered  far  before 
he  perceived  a  homeman  moving  along  the  road  upon  the  opposite 
side. 

“  Halloo,  James  Curry  ! — which  way  ? — What  news  have  you  ?” 

“  I  seek  you,  sir,  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  Dove  Cote,”  replied  the 
horseman,  who  at  the  same  time  turned  his  horse’s  head  to  the  river, 
and,  spurring  the  animal  forward,  plunged  into  the  stream  wdiich 
was  here  still  and  deep  enough  to  reach  above  his  saddle  flaps. 
After  some  floundering,  the  home  and  rider  gained  the  margin, 
where  Tyrrel  awaited  them  !  The  vigor  of  the  animal,  as  well  as 
the  practised  hand  that  held  the  rein,  was  shown  in  the  boldness  of 
the  attempt  to  climb  the  steep  bank  and  break  through  the  briers 
and  bushes  that  here  guarded  it.  As  soon  as  Curry  reached  the 
level  ground,  he  dismounted. 

“  In  God’s  name,  man,  what  is  the  matter  with  your  face  ?”  asked 
Tyrrel. 

“  It  is  of  that,  amongst  other  things,  that  I  came  to  speak  to  you,” 
was  the  reply ;  “  I  have  news  for  you.” 

“  Speak,  without  prelude.  Tell  me.” 

“  Major  Butler  slept  hvst  night  at  Mrs.  Dimock’s.” 

“  And  is  there  still  ?” 

“ISTo,  sir.  He  started  at  early  dawn  this  morning.” 

“To  join  Gates?”  ■ 

“I  think  not.  He  talked  of  going  to  Ninety-Six — perhaps  to 
Georgia.” 


114 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  So,  ho  !  The  hawk  hovers  over  that  field !  Does  he  travel 
alone  ?” 

“  He  has  a  giant  in  his  company,  a  great  ploughman  by  the  name 
of  Horse  Shoe  Robinson.  A  quarrelsome  rascal ;  he  would  needs 
pick  a  quarrel  with  me  last  night.  And  in  the  skirmish  I  got  this 
face.” 

“  Did  I  not  command  you  to  bear  yourself  peaceably  ?  Fool ! 
will  you  risk  our  lives  with  your  infernal  broils  ?  Now,  I  would 
wager  you  told  the  fellow  your  name.” 

“  Little  need  of  that,  sir.  He  told  it  to  me :  said  he  knew  me 
before.  The  fellow,  for  all  his  rough  coat,  is  a  regular  trained  soldier 
in  the  rebel  service,  and  has  met  me  somewhere — Heaven  knows ! — 
I  don’t  remember  him ;  yet  he  isn’t  a  man  to  see  once  and  for¬ 
get  again.” 

“  And  me,  did  he  speak  of  me  ?” 

“  He  knew  that  I  was  in  the  employ  of  an  English  gentleman  who 
was  here  at  the  Dove  Cote.  I  have  nothing  especial  to  complain  of 
in  the  man.  He  speaks  soldierly  enough ;  he  said  he  would  take  no 
advantage  of  me  for  being  here  as  long  as  our  visit  was  peaceable.” 

“Humph!  And  you  believed  him.  And  you  must  fight  with 
him,  like  a  brawling  knave.  When  will  you  get  an  ounce  of  wit  into 
that  fool’s  head  1  What  time  of  day  was  it  when  this  Butler 
arnved  ?” 

“  Long  after  night-fall.” 

“  Did  you  understand  any  thing  of  the  purpose  of  his  visit  ?”  _ 

“  He  talked  much  rvith  Mistress  Dimock,  and  I  think  their  con¬ 
versation  related  to  the  lady  at  the  Dove  Cote.  I  could  hear  but 
a  few  scattered  words.” 

“Away. — Here  (throwing  his  purse  to  the  horseman),  pay  up 
your  score  at  the  inn,  and  at  your  greatest  haste  attend  me  on  the 
river  bank,  immediately  below  Mr.  Lindsay’s  house.  Ask  Mrs. 
Dimock  to  have  a  breakfast  prepared  for  me. — Away,  I  ivill  expect 
you  in  half  an  hour.” 

Curry  mounted  his  horse,  and  choosing  a  more  convenient  ford 
than  that  which  he  had  passed  (for  the  jutting  rocks,  on  this  side, 
prevented  his  reaching  Mrs.  Dimock’s  without  recrossing  the  river  to 
the  road),  he  soon  regained  the  track,  and  was  seen,  almost  at  high 
speed,  sweeping  around  the  base  of  the  Fawn’s  Tower. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


116 


Tyrrel  returned  hastily  to  the  Dove  Cote,  and,  seeking  his  valet, 
gave  orders  to  have  his  portmanteau  packed,  his  horse  saddled  and 
to  be  in  waiting  for  him  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  These  commands 
were  speedily  obeyed,  and  everything  was  in  readiness  for  his  journey 
before  any  of  the  family  had  made  their  appearance  in  the  breakfast 
room. 

Whilst  Tyrrel  meditated  writing  a  line  to  explain  to  Lindsay  his 
present  sudden  movement,  and  had  drawn  near  a  table  for  that  pur¬ 
pose,  he  was  saluted  by  the  voice  of  Henry,  who  had  entered  the 
apartment,  and  stolen  unobserved  almost  immediately  behind  his 
chair. 

“Booted  and  spurred,  Mr.  Tyrrel!”  said  Henry.  “You  are  for 
a  ride.  Will  you  take  a  fowling-piece  ?  There  are  pheasants  over 
upon  the  hills.” 

“  Oh,  ho  !  Master  Henry,  you  are  up  !  I  am  glad  of  it.  I  was 
just  writing  a  word  to  say  that  business  calls  me  away  this  morn¬ 
ing.  Is  your  father  yet  abed  ?  ” 

“  He  is  sound  asleep,”  said  Henry ;  “  I  will  wake  him.” 

“  No,  my  lad.  You  must  not  do  that.  Say  I  have  received  news 
this  mornihg  that  has  called  me  suddenly  to  my  friends.  I  will 
return  before  long.  Is  your  sister  stirring  ?  ” 

“  She  was  in  the  garden  but  a  moment  since,”  replied  Henry ; 
and  the  young  man  left  the  room,  to  which  he  returned  after  a  short 
space.  “  Sister  Mildred  is  engaged  in  her  chamber,  and  begs  you 
will  excuse  her,”  said  he,  as  he  again  entered  the  door. 

“  Tush,  Henry,  I  didn’t  tell  you  to  interrupt  your  sister.  Make 
her  my  most  respectful  adieu.  Don’t  forget  it.  I  have  all  my  way 
to  win,”  he  said  to  himself,  “  and  a  rough  road  to  travel,  I  fear.” 

Tyrrel  now  left  the  house  and  descended  to  the  river,  accom¬ 
panied  by  Henry,  who  sought  in  vain  to  know  why  he  departed  in 
such  haste  as  not  to  stay  for  breakfast.  James  Curry  w'aited  below ; 
and,  when  Henry  saw  his  father’s  guest  mount  in  his  saddle  and 
cross  the  ford,  attended  by  his  two  servants,  he  turned  about  and 
clambered  up  the  hill  again,  half  singing  and  half  saying  to  him 
self, — “  I’m  glad  he’s  gone.  I’m  glad  he’s  gone,”  accompanied  with 
a  trolling  chorus,  expressive  of  the  satisfaction  of  his  feelings  at  the 
moment.  “  He’d  a  got  a  flea  in  his  ear,  if  he  had  stay’d.  I  should 
like  to  know  what  Major  Butler  would  say  to  Mr.  Tyrrel,  if  he  was 


116 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


to  meet  him.  Zooks  !  may  be  Butler  will  see  him  this  very  morn¬ 
ing  at  Mrs.  Dimock’s.  Now,  I  wonder !  Shall  I  whisper  that  to 
sister  Mildred  ?  She  would  be  glad,  for  one.  I’ll  be  bound !  May 
be,  they  might  have  a  fight.  And  if  they  do,  let  Mr.  Tyrrel  look 
out !  He  never  had  his  bread  so  buttered  in  his  life,  as  it  would 
be  then.” 

In  such  a  strain  of  cogitation  and  conjecture,  Henry  reached  the 
parlor,  where  he  found  Mildred.  The  melancholy  that  hung  upon 
her  spirits,  the  evening  before,  seemed  to  have  been  dispelled  by  the 
repose  of  the  night,  and  was  doubtless  relieved,  in  part,  by  the  intel¬ 
ligence  that  Tyrrel  had  quitted  the  Dove  Cote. 

“  Come,  sister,”  said  Henry,  throwing  his  arm  round  her  waist, 
and  almost  dancing,  as  he  foi’ced  her  through  the  open  window, 
“  come,  it  will  be  a  good  while  before  father  is  ready  for  his  break¬ 
fast.  Let  us  look  at  your  flowers  ;  I  have  something  to  tell  you.” 

“  You  are  quite  an  important  personage,  this  morning,”  replied 
Mildred,  moving  off  towards  the  lawn  with  her  brother.  “Your  face 
looks  as  wise  as  a  book  of  proverbs.” 

It  was  some  time  before  the  brother  and  sister  returned  to  the 
parlour,  and  when  they  did  so,  their  father  had  not  yet  appeared. 
The  delay  u^as  unusual ;  for  Lindsay  generally  rose  at  an  early  hour, 
and  frequently  walked  abroad  before  his  morning  meal.  When  he 
at  last  entered  the  room,  there  was  an  expression  of  care  upon  his 
brow  and  thought  that  made  him  haggard.  Mildred,  as  was  her 
custom,  approached  him  with  a  kiss,  and,  taking  both  of  his  hands, 
as  she  looked  up  in  his  face,  she  said,  with  some  earnestness, — 

“  You  are  not  well,  my  dear  father.” 

Lindsay  paused  a  moment,  while  he  gazed  affectionately  upon  her, 
and  then  pressing  her  to  his  bosom,  uttered  in  a  low  voice,  with  a 
smile, — 

“  God  bless  my  dear  child !  How  carefully  does  she  read  my 
looks  !  Come  hither,  Henry,”  he  continued,  as  he  gave  his  son  one 
hand,  and  still  held  Mildred  with  the  other,  and  then  turned  his  eyes 
alternately  upon  each.  Now,  tell  me,  which  of  you  love  me  best  ? 
Who  has  waited  most  patiently  for  me  this-  morning  ?  I  see  by  that 
glance  of  your  blue  eye,  master  Henry,  that  you  have  been  chiding 
your  lazy  father  for  lying  so  long  abed.  Now,  I  dare  say,  if  the 
truth  were  known,  you  have  had  your  rifle  ready  to  go  out  and  shoot 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


IIT 

squirrels  an  hour  ago.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Sportsman — not  to 
shoot  the  squirrel,  but  to  shoot  at  him.  Or,  perhaps,  you  mean  to 
bring  us  a  deer  to-day;  you  know  you  have  promised  to  do  that 
every  morning  for  a  week.” 

“  You  shall  eat  a  slice  from  as  fine  a  saddle  of  venison  to-day, 
father,  as  you  ever  saw  smoke  over  a  chafing-dish.” 

“  In  good  truth,  shall  I,  boy?  You  are  a  brave  promiser  !  You 
remember  your  own  adage, — Brag  was  a  good  dog,  but  Holdfast 
was  better.” 

“In  right  down  earnest,  fiither,  you  shall.  You  needn’t  laugh. 
Now,  you’re  thinking  I  have  the  deer  to  shoot ;  there’s  your  mistake. 
The  saddle  is  this  minute  lying  on  the  dresser  in  the  kitchen.  He 
was  a  running  buck  yesterday ;  and  I  could  tell  where  the  ])Owder 
and  ball  came  from  (here  Henry  made  the  motion  of  opening  a 
hunting  pouch  at  his  side)  that  jmt  an  end  to  his  capers.” 

“  He  is  a  monstrous  braggart ;  is  he  not,  Mildred  ?”  said  Lindsay, 
directing  a  look  of  incredulity  at  his  d.aughter. 

“What  Henry  tells  you  is  true,”  replied  Mildred.  “  Stephen  Fos¬ 
ter  was  here  at  sun-rise  with  a  part  of  a  buck,  which  he  says  was 
shot  yesterday.” 

“  Indeed  !  Then  it  is  to  Stejdren’s  rifle  we  are  indebted.  Y’’ou 
kill  your  bucks  by  proxy,  nuister.” 

“  I’ll  bet,”  said  Henry,  “  that  Stephen  Foster  hasn’t  the  impu¬ 
dence  to  charge  one  penny  for  that  venison.  And  why  ?  Because, 
by  the  laws  of  chace,  one-half  belongs  to  me.” 

“  Oh,  I  understand,”  interrupted  Lindsay,  with  affected  gravity ; 
“  it  is  a  matter  of  great  doubt  u  Inch  of  you  shot  it.  You  both 
fired  at  once;  or,  pcrhajis,  Sto]ihen  first,  and  you  afterwards;  and 
the  poor  animal  droi)ped  the  moment  you  took  your  aim, — even  be¬ 
fore  your  piece  went  off.  You  know  3'Our  aim,  Harry,  is  deadly/ 
— much  worse  than  your  bullet.” 

“  There  is  no  doubt  who  killed  him,”  said  Henry ;  “  for  Stephen 
was  on  that  side  of  the  hill,  and  I  was  a  little  below  him,  and  the 
buck  ran  light  to  Stephen,  who,  of  course,  gave  him  the  first  shot. 
But  there  was  I,  father,  just  ready,  if  Stephen  had  missed,  to  bring 
old  Velvet- Horns  to  the  ground,  before  he  could  have  leaped  a 
rod.” 

“  But,  unluckily,  Stephen’s  first  shot  killed  him  ?’’ 


118 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“I  don’t  know  that,”  replied  Henry.  “Another  person’s  knife 
might  have  done  the  business  ;  for  the  deer  jumped  down  the  bank 
into  the  road,  and  there  ” — 

Mildred  cast  a  sidelong  look  of  caution  at  her  brother,  to  warn 
him  against  alluding  to  a  third  person,  whom  it  was  not  discreet  to 
mention. 

“And  there,”  said  Henry,  taking  the  sign,  “  when  I  got  up  to  him 
he  was  stone  dead.  I  would  almost  think  a  deer  couldn’t  be  shot 
dead  so  suddenly.  But  Stephen  can  pitch  his  lead,  as  he  calls  it, 
just  where  he  likes.” 

“Well,  it  isn’t  fair  to  inquire  who  killed  him,”  said  Lindsay. 
“  One  hunter  often  turns  the  game  to  the  other’s  rifle.  And,  at  all 
events,  your  dogs,  Henry,  I  dare  say,  did  as  much  as  either  of  you.” 

“  Hylas  was  just  at  his  heels  when  he  was  shot,”  replied  Heniy ; 
“  and  a  better  dog  there  isn’t  in  Amherst,  or  Albemarle  to  boot.” 

“  Well,  well !  Let  us  to  breakfast.  Where  is  our  guest  ?  Tyrrel 
is  surely  out  before  this.” 

“  He  has  been  gone  from  the  Dove  Cote  more  than  an  hour,” 
said  Hemy.  “  He  told  me  to  say,  that  some  sudden  news  took  him 
off  in  haste.  I  would  have  waked  you,  but  he  forbade  it.  His  man, 
Curry,  who  was  waiting  for  him  at  the  ford,  I  dare  say,  brought 
him  some  dispatches.” 

“  It  was  very  sudden,”  said  Lindsay,  musing  ;  “  the  great  game 
will  be  shortly  played.” 

“  My  dear  father,  yon  have  not  your  usual  look  of  health,”  said 
Mildred  again.  “  I  fear  something  disturbs  you.” 

“A  slight  cold,  only,  from  exposure  to  the  night  air,  perhaps. 
You  did  not  see  Tyrrel  this  morning,  Mildred  ?” 

“  I  did  not  wish  to  see  him,  hither.  I  w^as  up  when  he  set  out, 
but  I  was  not  in  his  way.” 

“  Fie,  girl,  you  almost  speak  crossly  !  Tyrrel,  I  must  think,  is 
not  a  man  to  win  his  way  with  ladies.  But  he  is  a  loyal  subject  to 
bis  king.  I  can  tell  you,  Mildred,  loyalty  is  a  virtue  of  good  asso¬ 
ciations  in  these  mes.” 

'  ^  “It  is  the  last  virtue,  my  dear  father,  that  a  woman  ever  writes 
down  in  the  list  of  noble  qualities.  AVe  generally  forget  it  alto¬ 
gether.  History  is  so  full  of  the  glory  of  disloyal  heroes,  that  the 
indiscriminate  and  persevering  loyalty  of  brave  men  has  come  to  be 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


119 


but  little  noticed.  Brutus  was  disloyal,  and  so  was  Tell ;  and  the 
English  barons,  of  whom  you  boast  so  much,  when  you  call  them 
sturdy,  were  disloyal ;  and  Washington — who  knows,  my  dear 
father,  but  that  he  may  be  written  down  by  some  future  nation, 
(and  she  laid  an  emphasis  on  this  word,)  as  another  name  to  give 
credit  to  this  word,  disloyal.” 

“  Thou  art  a  shrewd  orator,  Mildred,”  exclaimed  her  father,  as  he 
sought  to  change  the  subject,  “  and  I  doubt  not,  if  heaven  had  made 
you  man,  you  would  now  be  flattering  these  rebels  by  persuading 
them  they  were  all  born  for  heroes.  We  may  thank  the  gods  that 
they  have  given  you  the  petticoat  instead  of  the  soldier’s  cloak,  and^^ 
placed  you  at  the  head  of  a  breakfast  table  instead  of  a  regi¬ 
ment.” 

“  I  do  not  think,”  replied  Mildred  smiling,  “  that  I  should  alto¬ 
gether  disgrace  the  cloak  now,  woman  as  I  am,  if  the  occasion 
required  me  to  put  it  on.” 

“  Pray  drop  this  subject,  my  dear  child  ;  you  know  it  makes  me 
sad.  My  family,  I  fear,  are  foredoomed  to  some  strange  mishap 
from  these  civil  broils.  Attend  me  presently  in  the  library,  I  have 
mattei’s  to  communicate  that  concern  you.  Henry,  my  boy,” 
Lindsay  continued,  as  he  rose  from  his  breakfast,  “pay  Stephen 
Foster  the  full  value  of  the  venison  ;  as  a  sportsman  you  have  a  right 
perhaps  to  your  share  of  the  game,  but  a  gentleman  shows  his 
courtesy  by  w’aiving  such  claims ;  he  should  suffer  no  friend  to  bo 
his  creditor,  even  in  opinion.  Stephen  may  not  expect  to  be  paid ; 
no  matter,  it  concerns  your  own  characttn-  to  be  liberal.” 

“  I  have  promised  Stephen  a  new  rifle,”  replied  Henry,  “  since 
they  have  elected  him  lieutenant  of  the  Amherst  Rangers  he  wants 
something  better  than  his  old  deer  gun.” 

“I  positively  forbid  it,”  interrupted  Lind.say  hastily,  returning 
towards  the  middle  of  the  room  from  the  door  through  which  ho 
Wits  about  to  depart.  “  What  1  would  you  purchase  weapons  fur 
these  clowns  to  enable  them  to  shoot  down  his  majesty’s  liege 
subjects  ?  to  make  war  upon  their  rightful  king,  against  his  laws  and 
throne  ?  to  threaten  your  life,  your  sister’s  and  mine,  unless  wo 
bowed  to  this  impious  idol  of  democracy,  which  thay  have  set  up — • 
this  Washington  ?” 

“  My  dear,  dear  father,”  interposed  Mildred  as  she  came  up  to 


120 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


him  and  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck.  “  Consider,  Henry  is  a 
thoughtless  boy,  and  does  not  look  to  consequences.” 

“  Heaven  Ifless  you  both,  my  children  !  I  beg  your  jiardons. 
I  am  over  captious.  Henry,  pay  Stephen  for  the  venison,  and  give 
him  something  better  than  a  rifle.  Mildred,  I  will  see  you 
presently.” 

When  Lindsay  had  left  the  parlor  Mildred  besought  her  brother, 
in  the  most  earnest  terms,  to  be  more  guarded  against  giving 
e.vpression  to  any  sentiment  which  might  .bring  their  father’s 
thoughts  to  the  existing  war.  Her  own  observation  had  informed 
her  of  the  nature  of  the  struggle  that  agitated  his  mind,  and  her 
eflbrt  was  continually  directed  to  calm  and  soothe  his  feelings  by 
the  most  unremitting  affection,  and  thus  to  foster  his  resolution 
against  taking  any  part  in  those  schemes  in  which,  she  shrewdly 
guessed,  it  was  the  purpose  of  the  emissaries  of  the  royal  party  to 
involve  him. 

Her  attachment  to  Arthur  Butler  she  feared  to  mention  to  her 
father,  whilst  her  self-respect  and  her  conviction  of  her  duty  to  a 
parent  who  loved  her  with  unbounded  devotion,  would  not  allow 
her  altogether  to  conceal  it.  Upon  this  subject,  Lindsay  had 
sufliciently  read  her  heart  to  know  much  more  about  it  than  she 
chose  to  confess ;  and  it  did  not  fail  to  kindle  up  in  his  mind  a 
feverish  excitement,  that  occasionally  broke  forth  in  even  a  petulant 
reproof,  and  to  furnish  the  only  occasion  that  had  ever  arisen  of 
serious  displeasure  against  his  daughter.  The  unhappy  association 
between  this  incident  in  the  life  of  Mildred,  and  the  current  of  a 
feeling  which  had  its  foundation  in  a  weak  piece  of  superstition,  to 
which  I  have  alluded  in  a  former  chapter,  gave  to  the  idea  of 
Mildred’s  marriage  with  Butler  a  fatal  complexion  in  Lindsay’s 
tlioughts.  “For  what  purpose,”  he  asked  himself,  “but  to  avert 
this  ill-omened  event  could  I  have  had  such  an  extraordinary 
warning  ?”  It  had  occurred  to  him  that  the  surest  method  of  pro¬ 
tecting  his  family  against  this  misfortune  would  be  to  throw 
Mildred  into  other  associations,  and  encourage  the  growth  of  other 
attachments,  such  as  might  be  expected  to  grow  up  in  her  heart  out 
of  the  kindness  of  new  friendships.  He  had  even  meditated  remov¬ 
ing  her  to  England,  but  that  plan  became  so  repulsive  to  him  when 
he  found  the  mention  of  it  distasteful  to  his  children,  and  it  suited  so 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


121 


little  his  own  fondness  for  the  retirement  he  had  already  cultivated, 
that  he  had  abandoned  it  almost  as  soon  as  it  occurred  to  him. 
His  next  alternative  was  to  favor — though  he  did  so  with  no  great 
zeal — the  proposal  lately  made  by  Tyrrel.  He  little  knew  the 
character  9f  the  woman  he  had  to  deal  with.  Never  was  more 
devotion  enshrined  in  a  woman’s  heart  than  in  Mildred’s.  N%ver 
was  more  fixed  and  steady  purpose  to  encounter  all  hazards  and 
hold  cheap  all  dangers  more  deeply  rooted  in  man’s  or  woman’s 
resolution,  than  was  Mildred’s  to  cherish  the  love  and  follow  the 
fortunes  of  Arthur  Butler. 

This  conflict  between  love  and  filial  duty  sadly  perplexed  the 
daughter’s  peace ;  and  not  less  disturbing  was  the  strife  between 
parental  aftection  and  the  supposed  mandate  of  fate,  in  the  breast  of 
the  father. 

Henry  protested  his  sorrow  for  his  recent  indiscretion  and 
promised  more  caution  for  the  future,  and  then  recurring  to  what 
more  immediately  concerned  his  sister’s  interest,  he  said,  “  I  do 
much  wonder  what  Tyrrel's  man  had  to  say  this  morning ;  it  took 
our  good  gentleman  away  so  suddenly.  I  can’t  help  thinking  it  has 
something  to  do  with  Butler  and  Horse  Shoe.  They  must  have 
been  seen  by  Curry  at  Mrs.  Dimock’s,  and  old  Tony  know's  the 
major  very  well,  and  lias  told  his  name.  Besides,  do  you 
know,  sister,  I  think  Gurry  is  a  spy  ?  Else,  Avhy  should  ho 
be  left  at  Mrs.  Dimock’s  always  ?  There  was  room  enough  here 
for  both  of  Mr.  Tyrrel’s  servants.  I  have  a  thought  that  I  will 
reconnoitre :  I  will  ride  over  to  the  Blue  Ball,  and  see  what  I  can 
learn.” 

“  Do,  m}’  good  brother,”  replied  Mildred,  “  and  in  the  meantime 
I  must  go  to  my  father,  who  has  something  disagreeable  to  tell  me 
— so  I  fear — concerning  that  busy  plotter  who  has  just  left  us.  My 
spirits  grow  heavy  at  the  thought  of  it.  Ah,  Henry,  if  I  could  but 
speak  out,  and  unpack  my  heart,  what  a  load  would  I  throw  oflF! 
How  does  it  grieve  me  to  have  a  secret  that  I  dare  not  tell 
my  dear  father !  Thank  heaven,  brother,  your  heart  and 
mine  have  not  yet  had  a  secret  that  they  could  not  whisper  to  each 
other !” 

“  Give  care  the  whip,  sister,”  said  Henry,  like  a  young  gallant, 
“it  belongs  to  the  bat  family  and  should  not  fly  in  day-time. 

6 


122 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Farewell  for  the  next  two  hours  !”  and  saying  these  words  the 
siirightly  youth  kissed  his  hand,  and,  with  an  alert  step,  left  the 
room. 

klilch’ed  now  retired  to  prepare  for  the  interview  with  her  father. 

% 


CHAPTER  XL 


A  SCENE  BETWEEN  A  FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER. 

When  Mildred  entered  the  library  Lindsay  was  already  there.  He 
stood  before  one  of  the  ranges  of  book  shelves,  and  held  a  volume  in 
his  hand  which,  for  a  moment  after  his  daughter’s  entrance,  seemed 
to  engross  his  attention.  Mildred  wiis  sufficiently  astute  to  pcu-ceive 
that  by  this  device  he  struggled  to  compose  his  mind  for  an  inter¬ 
view  of  which  she  more  than  guessed  the  import.  She  was  of  a 
constitution  not  easily  to  be  driven  from  her  self-possession  ;  but  the 
consciousness  of  her  father’s  embarrassment,  and  some  perplexity  in 
her  own  feelings  at  this  moment,  ])roduced  by  a  sense  of  the  difficult 
part  she  had  to  perform,  slightly  discomposed  her ;  there  was  some¬ 
thing  like  alarm  in  her  step,  and  also  in  the  expression  of  her 
features,  as  she  almost  stealthily  seated  herself  in  one  of  the  large 
lounging  chairs.  For  a  moment  she  unconsciously  employed  her¬ 
self  in  stripping  a  little  flower  that  she  held  in  her  hand  of  its  leaves, 
and  looked  silently  upon  the  floor ;  at  length,  in  a  low  accent,  she 
said,  ‘‘  Father,  I  am  here  at  your  bidding.’’  Lindsay  turned  quickly 
round,  and,  throwing  down  the  volume  he  had  been  perusing, 
approached  his  daughter  with  a  smile  that  seemed  rather  unnaturally 
to  play  over  his  grave  and  almost  melancholy  countenance,  and  it 
was  with  a  forced  attempt  at  pleasantry  he  said,  as  he  took  her 
hand : — 

“  Nowq  I  dare  say,  you  think  you  have  done  something  very 
wrong,  and  that  I  have  brought  you  here  to  give  you  a  lecture.” 

“  I  hope,  father,  I  have  done  nothing  wrong,”  wiis  Mildred’s  grave 
and  almost  tremulous  reply. 

“  Ihou  art  a  good  child,  Mildred,”  said  Lindsay,  drawing  a  cbaii 
close  beside  hers,  and  then,  in  a  more  serious  tone,  he  continued, 
“  you  are  entirely  sure,  my  daughter,  that  I  love  you,  and  devoutly 
seek  your  happiness  ?” 


193 


124 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Dear  father,  you  frighten  me  by  this  solemn  air.  Why  ask  me 
such  a  question  ?” 

“  Pardon  me,  ray  girl,  but  my  feelings  are  full  with  subjects  of 
serious  import,  and  I  would  have  you  believe  that  what  I  have  now 
to  say  springs  from  an  earnest  solicitude  for  your  welfare.” 

“  You  have  always  shown  it,  father.” 

“  I  come  to  speak  to  you,  without  reserve,  of  Tyrrel,”  resumed 
Lindsay ;  “  and  you  will  not  respond  to  my  confidence,  unless  you 
answer  me  in  the  very  truth  of  your  heart.  This  gentleman,  Mr. 
Tyrrel,  has  twice  avowed  to  me  of  late  an  earnest  attachment  to  you, 
and  has  sought  my  leave  to  prosecute  his  suit.  Such  things  are  not 
apt  to  escape  a  woman’s  notice,  and  you  have  doubtless  had  some 
hint  of  his  predilection  before  he  disclosed  it  to  me.” 

All  the  woman’s  bashfulness  disappeared  with  this  announcement. 
Mildred  grew  erect  in  her  seat,  and  as  the  native  pride  of  her  cha¬ 
racter  beamed  forth  from  every  feature  of  her  face,  she  replied — 

“  lie  has  never,  father,  vouchsafed  to  give  me  such  a  proof  of  his 
good  opinion.  Mr.  Tyrrel  is  content  to  make  his  bargain  with  you : 
he  is  well  aware  that  whatever  hope  he  may  be  idle  enough  to  che¬ 
rish,  must  depend  more  on  your  command  than  on  my  regard.” 

“  He  has  never  spoken  to  you,  Mildred  ?”  asked  Lindsay,  without 
making  any  comment  on  the  indignant  reception  his  daughter  had 
given  to  his  disclosure.  “  Never  a  word  ?  Bethink  you,  my  daugh¬ 
ter,  of  all  that  has  lately  passed  between  you.  A  maiden  is  apt  to 
misconstrue  attentions.  Can  you  remember  nothing  beyond  the 
mere  civilities  of  custom  ?” 

“  I  can  think  of  nothing  in  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  but  his  devo¬ 
tion  to  the  purpose  of  embroiling  my  dear  father  in  his  miserable 
politics.  I  can  remember  nothing  of  him  but  his  low  voice  and 
noiseless  step,  his  mysterious  insinuations,  his  midnight  sittings,  his 
fulsome  flattery  of  your  services  in  the  royal  cause,  the  base  means 
b}'^  which  he  has  robbed  you  of  your  rest  and  taken  the  color  from 
your  cheek.  I  thought  him  too  busy  in  distracting  3'our  peace  to 
cast  a  thought  upon  me.  But  to  speak  to  me,  father,  of  attach¬ 
ment,”  she  said,  rising  and  taking  a  station  so  near  Lindsay’s  chair 
as  to  be  able  to  lean  her  arm  upon  his  shoulder,  “  to  breathe  one 
word  of  a  wish  to  win  my  esteem,  that  he  dared  not  do.” 

“  You  speak  under  the  impulse  of  some  unnecessarily  excited 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


125 


feeling,  daughter.  You  apply  terms  and  impute  motives  that  sound 
too  harsh  from  your  lips,  when  the  subject  of  them  is  a  brave  and 
faithful  gentleman.  Mr.  Tyrrel  deserves  nothing  at  our  hands  but 
kindness.” 

“  Alas,  my  dear  father,  alas,  that  you  should  think  so  !” 

“  What  have  you  discovered,  Mildred,  or  heard,  that  j^ou  should 
deem  so  injuriously  of  this  man  ?  Who  has  conjured  up  this  unrea. 
sonable  aversion  in  your  mind  against  him  ?” 

“  I  am  indebted  to  no  sources  of  information  but  my  own  senses,” 
replied  Mildred  ;  “  I  want  no  monitor  to  tell  me  that  he  is  not  to  be 
ti’usted.  He  is  not  what  he  seems.” 

“  True,  he  is  not  what  he  seems,  but  better.  Tyrrel  appears  here 
but  as  a  simple  gentleman,  wearing,  for  obvious  reasons,  an  assumed 
name.  The  letters  he  has  brought  me  avouch  him  to  be  a  man  of 
rank  and  family,  high  in  the  confidence  of  the  officers  of  the  king, 
and  holding  a  reputable  commission  in  the  army :  a  man  of  note, 
worthy  to  be  trusted  w’ith  grave  enterprises,  distinguished  for  saga¬ 
city,  bravery,  and  honor,  of  moral  virtues  which  would  dignify  any 
station,  and,  as  you  cannot  but  acknowledge  from  your  own  obser¬ 
vation,  filled  W’ith  the  courtesy  and  grace  of  a  gentleman.  Fie, 
daughter !  it  is  sinful  to  derogate  from  the  character  of  an  honor¬ 
able  man.” 

“  Wearing  an  assumed  name,  father,  and  acting  a  part,  here,  at 
the  Dove  Cote !  Is  it  necessary  for  his  purpose  that,  under  this 
roof,  he  should  appear  in  masquerade?  May  I  know  whether  he 
treats  with  you  for  my  hand  in  his  real  or  assumed  character — does 
he  permit  me  to  know  who  he  is  ?” 

“All  in  good  time,  Mildred.  Content  }’ou,  girl,  that  he  has  suf¬ 
ficiently  certified  himself  to  me.  These  are  perilous  times,  and 
Tyrrel  is  obliged  to  practise  much  address  to  find  his  way  along  our 
roads.  You  are  aware  it  would  not  be  discreet  to  have  him  known 
even  to  oui‘  servants.  But  the  time  will  come  when  you  shall  know 
him  as  himself,  and  then,  if  I  mistake  not,  your  generous  nature  will 
be  ashamed  to  have  wronged  him  by  unworthy  suspicions.” 

“Believe  me,  father,”  exclaimed  Mildred,  rising  to  a  tone  of  ani¬ 
mation  that  aw’akened  the  natural  eloquence  of  her  feeling-s,  and 
gave  them  vent  in  language  which  more  resembled  the  display  of  a 
practised  orator  than  the  declamation  of  a  girl,  “  believe  me,  he  im- 


126 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


poses  on  you.  Ilis  jiurposes  are  intensely  selfish.  If  he  has  ob¬ 
tained  an  authority  to  treat  with  you  or  others  under  an  assumed 
name,  it  has  only  been  to  further  his  personal  ends.  Already 
has  he  succeeded  in  plunging  you,  against  your  will,  into  the  depth 
of  this  quarrel.  Your  time,  my  dear  father,  which  once  glided  as 
softly  and  as  happily  as  yon  sparkling  waters  through  our  valley, 
is  now  consumed  in  deliberations  that  wear  out  your  spirits  ;  your 
books  are  abandoned  for  the  study  of  secret  schemes  of  politics ; 
jmu  are  perplexed  and  anxious  at  every  account  that  reaches  us  of 
victory  or  defeat.  It  was  not  so,  until  you  saw  Tyrrel :  your 
nights,  that  once  knew  a  long  and  healthful  sleep,  are  now  divided 
by  short  and  unrefreshing  slumbers  :  you  complain  of  unpleasant 
dreams  and  you  foretell  some  constantly  coming  disaster.  Indeed, 
dearest  father,  you  are  not  what  you  were.  You  wrong  yourself 
l)y  these  cares,  and  you  do  not  know  how  anxiously  my  brother 
Henry  and  myself  watch,  in  secret,  this  unhappy  change  in  your 
nature.  How  can  I  think  with  patience  of  this  Tyrrel  when  I  see 
these  things  ?” 

“  The  times,  Mildred,  leave  me  no  choice.  When  a  nation  strug¬ 
gles  to  throw  off  the  rule  of  lawful  authority,  the  friends  of  peace 
and  order  should  remember  that  the  riotous  passions  of  the  refrac¬ 
tory  people  are  not  to  be  subdued  without  personal  sacrifices.” 

“  You  promised  yourself,  father,  here  at  the  Dove  Cote  to  live 
beyond  the  sphere  of  these  excitements.  And,  as  I  well  remember, 
you  often,  as  the  war  raged,  threw  yourself  upon  your  knees, '  and 
taught  us, — your  children, — to  kneel  by  your  side,  and  we  put  up 
our  joint  expressions  of  gratitude  to  God,  that,  at  least,  this  little 
asylum  was  undisturbed  by  the  angry  passions  of  man.”  • 

“  We  did,  we  did,  my  dearest  child.  But  I  should  think  it  sin¬ 
ful  to  pray  for  the  same  quiet  Avhcn  my  services  might  be  useful  to 
restore  harmony  to  a  distracted  and  misguided  country.” 

“  Do  you  now  think,”  asked  Mildred,  “  that  your  efforts  are  or 
can  be  of  any  avail  to  produce  peace  ?” 

“  The  blessing  of  heaven  has  descended  upon  the  arms  of  our 
sovereign,”  replied  Lindsay.  “  The  southern  provinces  are  subdued, 
and  are  fast  returning  to  their  allegiance.  The  hopes  of  England 
brighten,  and  a  speedy  close  of  this  unnatural  rebellion  is  at  hand.’’ 

“  There  are  many  valleys,  father,  amongst  these  mountains,  and 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


127 


the  wide  forests  shade  a  solitude  where  large  and  populous  nations 
may  be  hid  almost  from  human  search.  They  who  possess  the  val¬ 
leys  and  the  wilderness,  I  have  heard  it  said  by  wise  men,  will 
for  ever  choose  their  own  rulers.” 

‘■jMildred,  you  are  a  dutiful  daughter,  and  are  not  wont  to  op- 
jiose  3'our  lather’s  wishes.  I  could  dt'sire  to  see  you,  with  that 
shrewd  apjirehension  of  yours,  that  quick  insight,  and  thayhoughtful 
mind,  thoughtful  hei'ond  the  qualitj’  of  j'our  sex,  less  favorably 
bejit  towards  the  entci'prise  of  these  rebel  subjects.  I  do  utterly 
loathe  them  and  their  cause,  and  could  wish  that  child  of  mine 
abated  in  no  one  jot  of  my  aversion  to  them.” 

“  Heaven,  father,  and  your  good  tutoring  have  made  me  what  I 
am,”  returned  Mildred,  calmly  ;  “  I  am  but  a  woman,  and  speak  with 
a  weak  judgment  and  little  knowledge.  To  my  unlearned  mind  it 
seems  that^he  government  of  eveiy  nation  should  be  what  the  people 
wisli  Hj/  There  ai-e  good  men  here,  father,  amongst  your  friends — 
men,  who,  I  am  sure,  have  all  kindness  in  their  hearts,  who  say 
that  this  country  has  suflered  grievous  wrongs  from  the  insolence 
of  the  king’s  representatives.  Thej'  have  proclaimed  this  in  a 
paper  which  I  have  heard  even3’ou  say  was  temperate  and  thought¬ 
ful  :  and  3’ou  know  nearly  the  whole  land  has  roused  itself  to  say 
that  paper  was  good.  Can  so  many  men  be  wrong  ?” 

“  You  are  a  girl,”  replied  Lindsay,  “and  a  subtile  one  :  3-0U  are 
tainted  with  the  common  heres3'.  13ut  what  else  might  I  expect ! 
Thcic  aie  few  men  who  can  think  out  of  fa.shion.  When  the  mul¬ 
titude  is  su])posed  to  speak,  that  is  warrant  enough  for  the  Ojii- 
nions  of  the  majorit3'.  But  it  is  no  matter,  this  is  not  a  woman’s 
them^  and  is  foreign  to  our  present  conference.  I  came  to  talk 
with  3®*^^  about  T.3U'i‘*^h  Lpon  that  subject  I  Avill  use  no  per¬ 
suasions,  express  no  wish,  notin  the  slightest  point  essay  to  influ¬ 
ence  your  choice.  WTien  he  disclosed  his  purpose  to  me,  I  told 
him  it  was  a  question  solel3'  at  3*our  disposal.  Thus  much  it  is  my 
duty  to  sa3q  that  should  his  suit  be  favored  ” — 

“From  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  father,”  interrupted  Mildred 
eagerly,  and  with  increasing  earnestness,  “  I  abhor  the  thought, 
i^e  assured  that  if  age,  poA'ert3',  and  deformit3’  showertxl  ujion 
me  at  once,  it  friends  abandoned  me,  it  m3^  reason  Avere  blighted, 
and  I  was  doomed  to  Avander  barefooted  amongst  thorns  and  briers, 


128 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


I  would  not  excliange  that  lot,  to  he  his  wife  amidst  tenfold  his 
honors  and  wealth.  I  never  can  listen  to  his  hateful  proposal : 
there  is  that  in  my  condition  which  would  make  it  wicked.  Pray, 
dearest  father,  as  you  love  your  daughter,  do  not  speak  of  it  to  me 
again.” 

“  Resume  your  calmness,  child  :  your  earnestness  on  this  subject 
afflicts  me  ;  it  has  a  fearful  omen  in  it.  It  tells  of  a  heart  fatally 
devoted  to  one  whom,  of  all  men,  I  have  greatest  reason  to  hate. 
This  unhappy,  lingering  passion  for  the  sworn  enemy  of  his  king 
and  country,  little  becomes  my  daughter,  or  her  regard  for  me.  It 
may  rouse  me,  Mildred,  to  some  unkind  wish  against  thee.  Oh,  I 
could  curse  myself  that  I  ever  threw  you  in  the  way  of  this  insidi¬ 
ous  rebel,  Butler.  Nay  you  need  not  conceal  your  tears;  well  do 
they  deserve  to  flow  for  this  persevering  transgression  against  the 
peace  of  your  father’s  house.  It  requires  but  little  skill  to  read  the 
whole  history  of  your  heart.” 

Lindsay  now  walked  to  and  fro  across  the  apai'tment,  under  the 
influence  of  emotions  which  he  was  afraid  to  trust  himself  to  utter. 
At  length  resuming  his  expostulation,  in  a  somewhat  moderate  tone, 
he  continued : 

“  Will  no  lapse  of  time  wear  away  this  abhorred  image  from 
your  memory  ?  Are  you  madly  bent  on  bringing  down  misery  on 
your  head  ?  I  do  not  speak  of  my  own  suffering.  Will  you  for 
ever  nurse  a  hopeless  attachment  for  a  man  whom,  it  must  be  ap¬ 
parent  to  yourself,  you  can  never  meet  again  ?  Whom  if  the  perils 
of  the  field,  the  avenging  bullet  of  some  loyal  subject,  do  not  bring 
him  merited  punishment,  the  halter  may  reward,  or,  in  his  most 
fortunate  destiny,  disgrace,  poverty,  and  shame  pursue.  Are  you 
for  ever  to  love  that  man  ?” 

f  Mildred  stood  before  her  father  as  he  brought  this  appeal  to  a 
close ;  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  her  breast  heaving  as  if  it  would 
burst ;  and  summoning  up  all  her  courage  for  her  reply,  when  this 
last  question  was  asked,  she  looked  with  an  expression  of  almost 
angry  defiance  in  his  face,  as  she  answered  “  For  ever,  for  ever,”  and 
hastily  left  the  room. 

The  firm  tone  in  which  Mildred  spoke  these  last  words,  her  proud 
and  almost  haughty  bearing,  so  unlike  anything  Lindsay  had  ever 
seen  before,  and  her  abrupt  departure  from  his  presence,  gave  a 


I 


UORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON.  129 

check  to  the  current  of  his  thoughts  that  raised  the  most  painful 
emotions.  For  an  instant  a  blush  of  resentment  rose  into  his 
cheeks,  and  he  felt  tempted  to  call  his  daughter  back  that  he  might 
express  this  sentiment :  it  was  but  of  a  moment’s  duration,  how¬ 
ever,  and  grief,  at  what  he  felt  was  the  first  altercation  hediad 
ever  had  with  his  child,  succeeded,  and  stifled  all  other  emotions. 
He  flung  himself  into  the  chair,  and,  dropping  his  forehead  upon 
his  hand,  gave  way  to  the  full  tide  of  his  feelings.  His  spirits 
gradually  became  more  composed,  and  he  was  able  to  survey  with 
a  somewhat  temperate  judgment  the  scene  that  had  just  passed. 
His  manner,  he  thought,  might  have  been  too  peremptory — perhaps 
it  was  harsh,  and  had  offended  his  daughter’s  pride :  he  should 
have  been  more  conciliatory  in  his  speech.  “The  old,”  he  said, 
“  are  not  fit  counsellors  to  the  young ;  we  forget  the  warmth  of  their 
passions,  and  would  reason  when  they  only  feel.  How  small  a 
share  has  prudence  in  the  concerns  of  the  heart !”  But  then  this 
unexpected  fervor  of  devotion  to  Butler — that  alarmed  him,  and  ho 
bit  his  lip,  as  he  felt  his  anger  rising  with  the  thought.  “  Her  re¬ 
pugnance  to  Tyrrel,  her  prompt  rejection  of  his  suit,  her  indignant 
contempt  for  the  man,  even  that  I  could  bear  with  patience,”  he 
exclaimed.  “  I  seek  not  to  trammel  her  will  by  any  authority  of 
mine.  But  this  Butler  !  Oh  !  there  is  the  beginning  of  the  curse 
upon  my  house !  there  is  the  fate  against  which  I  have  been  so 
solemnly  warned  I  That  man  who  had  been  the  author  of  this 
unhappiness,  and  whose  alliance  with  my  name  has  been  denounced 
by  the  awful  visitation  of  the  dead, — that  Mildred  should  cherish  his 
regard,  is  misery.  It  cannot  and  shall  not  be  !” 

These  and  many  such  reflections  passed  through  Lindsay’s  mind, 
and  had  roused  his  feelings  to  a  tone  of  exacerbation  affainst  Ar- 
thur  Butler,  far  surpassing  any  di.spleasure  he  had  ever  before  in¬ 
dulged  against  this  individual.  In  the  height  of  this  self-commu¬ 
nion  he  was  interrupted  by  the  return  of  Mildred  to  the  apiu-tment, 
almost  as  abruptly  as  she  had  quitted  it.  She  approached  his  chaii-, 
knelt,  laid  her  head  upon  his  lap,  and  wept  aloud. 

“  Why,  my  dear  father,”  she  said,  at  length,  looking  up  in  his 
face  while  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks,  “  why  do  you  address 
language  to  me  that  makes  me  forget  the  duty  I  owe  you  ?  If 
you  knew  my  heart,  you  would  spare  and  pity  my  feelings.  Pardon 

C* 


130 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


me,  dear  fatlier,  if  my  conduct  has  offended  you.  I  knew  not 
what  I  spoke ;  I  am  wretched,  and  cannot  answer  for  my  words. 
Do  not  think  I  would  wound  your  affection  by  unkindness ;  hut  in¬ 
deed,  indeed,  I  cannot  hear  you  speak  of  Tyi-rel  without  agony.” 

“  Rise,  daughter,”  said  Lindsay,  almost  lifting  her  up,  “  I  do  not. 
chide  you  for  your  repugnance  to  Tyi’rel.  You  mistake  me  if  you 
think  I  would  dictate  to  your  affections  :  my  grief  has  a  deeper' 
source.  This  Arthur  Butler  ” — 

“  Spare  that  name,  father  ?”  interrupted  Mildred,  retiring  to  a 
seat  near  the  window  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 

“  Curse  him  !”  exclaimed  Lindsay.  “  May  all  the  plagues  that 
torment  the  human  bosom  fall  upon  him  !  Mark  me,  daughter,  I 
trust  I  am  not  an  unreasonable  father ;  I  know  I  am  not  an 
unkind  one ;  there  are  few  requests  that  you  could  make  which 
I  would  not  freely  grant.  But  to  hear  with  patience  the 
name  of  that  man  on  your  lips,  to  think  of  him  as  alhed  to  you  by 
any  sympathy,  as  sharing  any  portion  of  your  esteem — him,  a 
rebel  traitor  who  has  raised  his  sacrilegious  hand  against  his 
king,  who  has  sold  his  name  to  infamy,  who  has  contributed  to 
fill  these  peaceful  provinces  with  discord,  and  to  subvert  the  hap¬ 
piness  of  this  land,  which  heaven  had  appointed  to  be  an  asylum 
where  man,  disgusted  with  the  lusts,  rapine,  and  murder  of  his  fel¬ 
low,  might  betake  himself  as  a  child  to  the  bosom  of  his  parent — I 
cannot  endure  the  thought  of  him  !  Never  again,  Mildred,  I 
charge  you,  never  allude  to  him  again  !” 

“  If  I  could  but  tell  you  all !”  interrupted  Mildred,  sobbing,  “  if 
I  could  but  patiently  have  your  hearing.” 

“  Never  a  Avord  of  him  !  as  you  desire  to  preserve  my  affection. 
I  will  not  hear.  Get  to  your  chamber,”  said  Lindsay,  almost  stern- 
^ly.  “  Get  to  your  chamber,  this  perverse  and  resolute  temper  of 
thine,  needs  the  restraint  of  solitude.” 

Mildred  rose  from  her  chair  and  moved  towards  the  door,  and  as 
she  was  about  to  depart  she  turned  her  weeping  countenance  to¬ 
wards  her  father. 

I ,  “  Come  hither,”  he  said,  “  thou  art  a  foolish  girl,  and  would 
Wing  down  wretchedness  and  woe  upon  thee.  God  forgive  you ! 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  I  forgive  you.  This  thing  is  not  of 
your  own  imagining ;  some  malignant  spirit  has  spread  his  baleful 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


131 


wing  above  our  house.  Go,  child,  forget  what  has  been  said,  and 
believe  that  your  father  buffets  thus  harshly  with  fate  for  your  own 
Avelhire.  Kiss  me,  and  may  heaven  shield  you  against  this 
impending  ill !” 

“  Dear  father,  hear  me,”  said  Mildred,  as  Lindsay  imprinted  a 
hiss  upon  her  forehead. 

‘‘  Away,  away !”  inteiTupted  Lindsay,  “  I  would  be  temperate, 
nor  again  forget  myself.  In  all  love,  Mildred,  away.” 

Mildred  left  the  room,  and  Lindsay,  to  restore  the  equanimity  of 
his  temper,  which  had  been  so  much  overthrown  by  this  interview, 
wandered  forth  into  the  valley,  whence  it  was  some  hours  before  he 
returned. 

It  was  not  long  after  the  termination  of  this  conference  before 
Henry  rode  up  to  the  door.  The  clatter  of  his  horse’s  hoofs 
brought  ^lildred  from  her  chamber  into  the  parlor. 

“  What !  sister,  your  eyes  red  with  tears  ?”  said  Henry.  “  "UTio 
has  distressed  you  ?” 

“  Ah,  brother,  I  have  had  a  weary  time  in  your  absence.  Our 
poor  father  is  sadly  displeased  with  me.” 

“  Have  you  told  him  all  ?”  asked  Henry,  with  an  expression  of 
anxiety. 

“  He  bade  me,”  replied  Mildred,  “  never  mention  Arthur’s  name 
again.  He  would  not  hear  me  speak  of  Aathur.  Have  I  not 
reason,  dear  brother,  to  be  miserable  ?” 

“  I  love  you,  Mildred,”  said  Henry,  kissing  his  sister,  “  and  what’s 
more,  I  love  Arthur  Butler,  and  will  stand  up  for  him  against  the 
world.  And  I  have  a  good  mind  to  go  to  my  father  and  tell  him  I 
am  man  enough  to  think  for  myself — and  more  than  that — that  I, 
for  one,  believe  these  rebels,  as  he  calls  them,  have  the  light  of  it. 
Why  shouldn’t  I  ?  Can’t  I  shoot  a  rifle  as  well  as  the  best  of 
them,  and  stand  by  a  friend  in  a  quarrel,  and  make  good  my  words 
as  well  as  many  a  man  who  writes  twenty  years  to  his  age  ?  Tush  !  I 
am  tired  of  this  boy-play — shooting  with  blunted  arrows,  and  riding 
with  my  father’s  hand  ever  on  the  neck  of  ray  horse,  as  if  I  could 
not  hold  the  reins.  Give  me  sharp  steel,  Mildred,  and  throw  me  on 
the  world,  and  I’ll  be  bound  I  make  my  way  as  well  as  another.” 

“  We  are  surrounded  with  difficulties,  brother,”  said  Mildred, 
“  and  have  a  hard  part  to  perform.  We  must  soothe  our  dear 


132 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


father’s  feelings,  for  he  loves  us,  Henry ;  and  if  he  could  hut  think 
as  we  do,  how  happy  should  we  he !  But  there  is  something 
fearful  in  his  passions,  and  it  makes  me  tremble  to  see  them 
roused.” 

“  This  all  comes,”  replied  Henry,  “  from  that  devil’s  imp  Tyi-rel. 
Oh,  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  trounce  that  fellow,  sister.  But 
you  hav’n’t  asked  me  about  my  reconnoitring !  I’ll  tell  you. 
Tyrrel’s  man,  Curry,  talked  a  great  deal  to  old  Tony  and  Mrs. 
Dimock  both,  about  our  friends  who  went  there  last  night,  and 
found  out  their  names  and  all  about  them :  and  there  was  some 
fray  between  Horse  Shoe  and  Curry,  in  which.  I’ll  warrant  you^ 
Horse  Shoe  gave  him  a  drubbing;  so  Tony  told  me.  Well,  Butler 
and  Horse  Shoe  set  out  this  morning  at  daylight.  And  Tyrrel 
went  over  there  to  breakfast ;  and  you  may  suppose  he  was  lucky 
in  not  meeting  the  major,  for  I  am  sure  there  would  have  been  a 
spot  of  work  if  he  had.  Furthermore,  I  found  out  that  Tyrrel 
followed  on  the  same  road  after  Butler,  so  they  may  meet  yet,  you 
know.” 

“  I  pray  not,”  said  Mildred . 

“  Wliy  pray  not,  sister  ?  I  pray  they  may  meet.  Let  Tyrrel 
have  all  the  good  of  it.  There,  now  I  believe  I  have  given  you  all 
the  news,  sister,  exactly  as  I  picked  it  up.  But  here  is  a  trifle  I 
forgot,”  said  Henry,  producing  a  letter  addressed  to  Mildred. 
“  Ah,  ha,  you  brighten  up  now  !  This  was  left  by  the  major  with 
Mrs.  Dimock,  to  be  forwarded  to  you  with  care  and  speed.” 

Mildred  tore  open  the  letter,  and  eagerly  perused  its  contents. 
They  consisted  of  a  few  lines  hastily  penned  by  Butler,  at  early 
dawn,  as  he  was  about  mounting  his  horse  for  the  prosecution  of 
his  journey.  Their  purpose  was  to  apprise  her  of  the  discovery 
Robinson  had  made  of  the  true  character  of  Curry,  and  also  to 
express  his  fears  that  this  latter  person  might  disclose  to  Tyrrel  the 
fact  of  his,  Butler’s,  visit.  He  cautioned  her  to  observe  the  conduct 
of  Tyrrel,  and  to  communicate  with  him  at  Gates’s  head-quarteis 
where  he  expected  to  be  delayed  a  few  days  on  his  journey  :  her 
letter,  he  said,  might  be  forwarded  by  some  of  the  parties  who  at 
that  time  were  continually  passing  southward  ;  Henry  might  look 
to  this  ;  and  he  concluded  by  assuring  her  that  he  would  Avrite  as 
often  as  he  might  find  means  of  conveying  a  packet  to  the  care 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


133 


of  good  Mistress  Dimock,  wlio  was  sufficiently  in  the  interest  of  the 
lovers  to  keep  faithfully  any  secret  which  they  might  confide  to 
her. 

This  letter  served  to  explain  the  cause  of  Tyrrel’s  sudden 
departure,  and  to  confirm  Mildred  in  the  opinion,  which  she  had 
before  expressed,  that  this  guest  of  her  father  was  not  ignorant  of 
the  interest  Butler  had  in  her  regard.  Tier  determination  therefore 
w’as  to  watch  his  motions  narrowly,  and  to  make  her  lover 
acquainted  ivith  whatever  she  might  discover. 

“  It  is  even  so,”  she  said  musing ;  “  Tyrrel  either  fears  or  hates 
Arthur.  I  shudder  to  think  that  that  man  should  have  any  motive 
supplied  him  to  contrive  against  the  peace  or  safety  of  one  so  dear 
to  me.  Wretch,”  she  exclaimed,  “that  he  should  be  insolent 
enough  to  hope  for  my  regard  !  Oh  !  my  father,  my  father,  what 
a  snare  has  .been  spread  for  you  by  this  man  !  Thank  you, 
brother,”  she  continued,  addressing  Ilenry.  “  You  have  well 
executed  your  mission.  Be  discreet  and  ready  ;  I  shall  have  much 
need  of  your  head  and  hand  both :  your  heart  is  mine  already, 
good  brother.” 

“I  will  i-ide  for  you,  sister,”  said  Heniy,  “I  will  run  for  you, 
speak  for  you,  pray  for  you — if  my  prayers  be  worth  anything — 
and  strike  for  you,  if  need  be.  If  I  am  but  turned  of  sixteen,  I  am 
a  man,  I  trow ;  and  that’s  more  than  you  are.  Good  bye  !  a  soldier^ 
ought  to  look  after  his  horse,  you  know.” 

“  God  bless  you,  dear  brother,  for  an  excellent  boy,”  said  Mildred^ 
smiling,  “  man  I  mean — aye  and  a  brave  one  !” 

Ilenry  now  walked  away,  and  Mildred  betook  herself  to  other 
cares. 


13-1 


HOESE  SHOE  E 0 B 1 N S O E . 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  POLITICAL  EETEOSPECT. - BUTLEE  ENTERS  SOUTH  CAROLINA. 

It  was  the  misfortune  of  South  Carolina,  during  the  revolution 
arj  war,  to  possess  a  numerous  party  less  ,  attached  to  the  union  or 
more  tainted  with  disaffection  than  the  inhabitants  of  any  of  the 
other-states.  Amongst  her  citizens  the  disinclination  to  sever  from 
the  mother  country  ivas  stronger,  the  spread  of  republican 
principles  more  limited,  and  the  march  of  revolution  slower,  than  in 
either  of  the  other  colonies,  except,  perhaps,  in  the  neighbor  state 
of  Georgia,  where  the  people  residing  along  the  Savannah  river, 
were  so  closely  allied  to  the  Carolinians  in  sentiment,  habits,  and 
pursuits,  as  to  partake  pretty  accurately  of  the  same  jiolitical  pi  eju- 
dices,  and  to  unite  themselves  in  parties  of  the  same  complexion. 
Upon  the  first  invasion  of  Georgia,  at  the  close  of  the  year  1'7'78, 
the  city  of  Savannah  was  made  an  easy  conquest,  and  a  mere 
handful  of  men,  early  in  lY'/Q,  were  enabled  to  penetrate  the  # 
interior  as  far  as  Augusta,  and  to  seize  upon  that  post.  The 
audacity  with  which  Prevost  threatened  Charleston  in  the  same 
year,  the  facility  of  his  march  through  South  Carolina,  and  the 
safety  which  attended  his  retreat,  told  a  sad  tale  of  the  supineuess 
o^he  people. of  that  province.'  The  reduction  of  Charleston  in  the 
following  year,  by  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  was  followed  with  singular 
rapidity  by  the  conquest  of  the  whole  province.  A  civil  govern¬ 
ment  was  erected.  The  most  remote  posts  in  the  mountains  were 
at  once  occupied  by  British  soldiers  or  provincial  ti’oops,  mustered 
under  the  officers  of  the  royal  army.  Proclamations  were  issued  to 
call  back  the  wandering  sheep  to  the  royal  fold;  and  they, 
accordingly,  like  herds  that  had  been  scattered  from  beneath  the 
eye  of  the  shepherd  by  some  rough  incursion  of  wolves,  flocked  in 
as  soon  as  they  were  aware  of  the  retreat  of  their  enemy.  Lord 
Cornwallis,  upon  whom  the  command  devolved  after  the  reimn  of 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


135 


Sir  nemy  Clinton  in  June  to  New  York,  recruited  liis  army  from 
these  repentant  or  unwilling  republicans  ;  and  the  people  rejoiced 
at  what  they  thought  the  end  of  strife  and  the  establishment  of 
law.  The  auxiliaries  who  had  marched  from  Virginia  and  North 
Carolina  under  Colonel  Buford,  to  assist  in  the  defence  of  the 
southern  capital,  were  informed  of  its  surrender  as  they  journeyed 
thither,  and  soon  found  themselves  obliged  to  fly  through  a  country 
they  had  come  to  succor ; — and  when  even  at  the  distance  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the  city,  were  overtaken  by  the  ruth¬ 
less  troopers  of  Tarleton,  and  butchered  under  circumstances 
peculiarly  deplorable.  , 

In  truth,  a  large  proportion  of  the  population  of  South  Carolina 
seem  to  have  regarded  the  revolution  with  disfavor,  and  they  were 
slow  to  break  their  ancient  friendship  for  the  land  of  their  fore¬ 
fathers.  The  colonial  government  was  mild  and  beneficent  in  its 
action  upon  the  piwince,  and  the  people  had  a  reverence  for  the 
mother  country  deeper  and  more  affectionate  than  was  found  else¬ 
where.  They  did  not  resent,  because,  haply,  they  did  not  feel  the 
innovations  of  right  asserted  by  the  British  crown,  so  acutely  as 
some  of  their  neighbors ;  to  them  it  did  not  seem  to  be  so  unreason¬ 
able  that  taxation  should  be  divorced  from  representation.  They 
did  not  quarrel  with  the  assumption  of  Great  Britain  to  regulate 
t  their  trade  for  them  in  such  manner  as  best  suited  her  own  views 
of  interest ;  nor  did  they  see  in  mere  commercial  restrictions  the 
justification  of  civil  war  and  hot  rebellion  ; — because,  peradventure, 
(if  I  may  hazard  a  reason)  being  a  colony  of  planters  whose  pro¬ 
ducts  were  much  in  demand  in  England,  neither  the  regulations 
of  their  trade  nor  the  restrictions  upon  commerce,  were  likely  to 
be  so  adjusted  as  to  interfere  with  the  profitable  expansion  of  their 
labors. 

Such  might  be  said  to  be  the  more  popular  sentiment  of  the 
State  at  the  time  of  its  subjugation  by  Sir  Heniy  Clinton  and 
Lord  Cornwallis.  To  this  common  feeling  there  were  many  bril¬ 
liant  exceptions ;  and  the  more  brilliant  because  they  stood,  as  it 
were,  apart  from  the  preponderating  mass  of  public  judgment. 
There  is  no  trial  of  courage  which  will  bear  comparison  with  that 
of  a  man  whose  own  opinions  stand  in  opposition,  upon  fearful 
quc-stions  of  passion,  to  those  of  the  “  giddy-paced”  and  excited 


136 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


multitude,  and  who,  nevertheless,  carries  them  “  into  act.”  That 
man  ivho  can  stand  in  the  breach  of  universal  public  censure,  with 
all  the  fashions  of  opinion  disgracing  him  in  the  thoughts  of  the 
lookers  on,  with  the  tide  of  obloquy  beating  against  his  breast, 
and  the  fingers  of  the  mighty,  combined  many,  pointing^him  to 
scorn  ;  nay,  with  the  fury  of  the  drunken  rabble  threatening  him 
with  instant  death  ;  and,  worse  than  all,  having  no  present  friend 
to  whisper  a  word  of  defence  or  palliative,  in  his  behalf,  to  his 
revilers,  but  bravely  giving  his  naked  head  to  the  storm,  because 
he  knows  himself  to  be  idrtuous  in  his  purpose ;  that  man  shall 
come  forth  from  this  fierce  ordeal  like  tried  gold ;  philosophy  shall/ 
embalm  his  name  in  her  richest  unction,  history  shall  give  him  a 
.  place  on  her  brightest  page,  and  old,  yea,  hoary,  tar-os'  posterity 
^  shall  remember  him  as  of  yesterday. 

There  were  heroes  of  this  mould  in  South  CaroHna,  who  entered 
with  the  best  spirit  of  chivalry  into  the  national  quarrel,  and 
brought  to  it  hearts  as  bold,  minds  as  vigorous,  and  arms  as  strong 
as  ever,  in  any  clime,  worked  out  a  nation’s  redemption.  These 
men  refused  submission  to  then-  conquerors,  and  endured  exile, 
chains,  and  prisons,  rather  than  the  yoke.  Some  few,  still  undis¬ 
couraged  by  the  portents  of  the  times,  retreated  into  secret  places, 
gathered  then-  few  patriot  neighbors  together,  and  contrived  to 
keep  in  awe  the  soldier-government  that  now  professed  to  sway  the 
land.  They  lived  on  the  scant  aliment  furnished  in  the  woods, 
slept  in  the  tangled  brakes  and  secret  places  of  the  fen,  exacted 
■'  contributions  from  the  adherents  of  the  crown,  and  by  rapid  move¬ 
ments  of  their  woodland  cavalry  and  brave  blows,  accomplished 
more  than  thrice  their  numbers  would  have  achieved  in  ordinary 
warfare. 

The  disaffected  abounded  in  the  upper  country,  and  here  Corn¬ 
wallis  maintained  some  strong  garrisons.  The  difficulties  that  sur¬ 
rounded  the  republican  leaders  may  well  be  supposed  to  have  been 
appalling  in  this  region,  where  regular  posts  had  been  established 
to  furnish  the  Tories  secure  points  of  union,  and  the  certainty  of 
prompt  assistance  whenever  required.  Yet  notwithstanding  the 
numerical  inferiority  of  the  fiiends  of  independence,  their  guarded 
and  proscribed  condition,  their  want  of  support,  and  their  almost 
absolute  destitution  of  all  the  necessaries  of  military  life,  the  nation 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


137 


was  often  rejoiced  to  hear  of  brilliant  passages  of  arms,  where,  how-* 
ever  unimportant  the  consequences,  the  display  of  soldiership  and 
bravery  was  of  the  highest  order.  In  such  encounters,  or  fravs, 
they  might  almost  be  called,  from  the  smallness  of  the  numbers 
concerned  and  the  hand-to-hand  mode  of  fighting  which  they 
exhibited,  Marion,  Sumpter,  Horry,  Pickens,  and  many  others,  had 
n  on  a  fame  that  in  a  nation  of  poetical  or  legendary  associations 
would  have  been  reduplicated  through  a  thousand  channels  of  im- 
moital  verse:  but,  alas!  we  have  no  ballads:  and  many  men, 
who  as  well  deserve  to  be  remembered  as  Percy  or  Douglas,  as 
Adam  Bell  or  Clym  of  the  Clough,  have  sunk  down  without  even 
a  couplet-epitaph  upon  the  rude  stone,  that  in  some  unfenced  and 
unreverenced  grave-yard  still  marks  the  lap  of  earth  whereon 
their  heads  were  laid.  f 

One  feature  that  belonged  to  this  unhappy  state  of  things  in 
Carolina  wag  the  division  of  families.  Kindred  were  arrayed 
against  each  other  in  deadly  feuds,  and,  not  unfrequently,  brother 
took  up  arms  against  brother,  and  sons  against  their  sires.  A  pre¬ 
vailing  spirit  of  treachery  and  distrust  marked  the  times.  Strangers 
did  not  know  how  far  they  might  trust  to  the  rites  of  hospitalTty  ; 
and  many  a  man  laid  his  head  upon  his  pillow,  uncertain  whether 
his  fellow  lodger,  or  he  with,  whom  he  had  broken  bread  at  his 
last  meal,  might  not  invade  him  in  the  secret  watches  of  the  night 
and  murder  him  in  his  slumbers.  All  went  armed,  and  many 
slept  with  pistols  or  daggers  under  their  pillows.  Thefe  are  tales 
told  of  men  being  summoned  to  their  doors  or  windows  at  midnight 
by  the  blaze  of  their  farm-yards  to  which  the  incendiary  torch  had 
been  applied,  and  shot  down,  in  the  light  of  the  conflagration,  by  a 
concealed  hand.  Families  were  obliged  to  betake  themselves  to 
the  shelter  of  the  thickets  and  swamps,  when  their  own  home¬ 
steads  were  dangerous  places.  The  enemy  wore  no  colors,  and 
w^as  not  to  be  distinguished  from  friends  either  by  outward  guise 
or  speech.  Nothing  could  be  more  revolting  than  to  see  the 
symbols  of  peace  thus  misleading  the  confident  into  the  toils  of 
war  ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  imagine  a  state  of  society  characterized 
by  a  more  frightful  insecurity. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  country  to  w'hich  my  tale  now 
makes  it  necessary  to  introduce  my  reader.  Butlers  instructions 


138 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


required  that  he  should  report  himself  to  General  Gates,  and, 
unless  detained  for  more  pressing  dutjq  to  proceed  -with  all  the  cir¬ 
cumspection  -which  the  enterprise  might  require,  to  Colonel  Clarke, 
who,  it  was  known,  was  'at  that  time  in  the  upland  country  of 
South  Carolina,  raising  troops  to  act  against  Augusta  and  other 
British  posts.  lie  accordingly  arrived  at  head-quarters,  on  the 
borders  of  the  trvo  Carolinas,in  about  a  week  after  leaving  the  Dove 
Cote.  The  army  of  the  brave  and  unfortunate  De  Kalb,  which 
had  been  originally  destined  for  the  relief  of  Charleston,  had  been 
increased,  by  reinforcements  of  militia  from  Virginia  and  the 
adjoining  States,  to  double  the  computed  strength  of  the  British 
forces  ;  and  Gates,  on  taking  command  of  it,  was  filled  -with  the 
most  lofty  presentiments  of  -victory.  Vainglorious  and  unadvis- 
able,  he  is  said  to  have  pushed  forward  with  an  indiscreet  haste, 
and  to  have  thrown  himself  into  difficulties  which  a  wiser  man 
would  have  avoided.  He  professed  himself  to  stand  in  no  need  of 
recruits  to  his  army,  and  Butler,  therefore,  after  the  delay  of  a  few 
days,  was  left  at  liberty  to  pursue  his  original  scheme. 

The  wides]pread  disaffection  of  the  region  through  which  our 
adventurers  were  about  to  pass,  inculcated  the  necessity  of  the 
utmost  -\ngilance  to  avoid  molestation  from  the  numerous  parties 
that  were  then  abroad  hastening  to  the  seat  of  war.  Under  the 
almost  entire  guidance  of  Robinson,  who  was  familiar  with  every 
path  in  this  neighborhood,  Butler’s  plan  was  to  temporize  with 
whatever  difficulties  might  beset  his  way,  and  to  rely  upon  his 
own  and  his  comrade’s  address  for  escape. 

The  sergeant’s  first  object  -w'as  to  conduct  his  superior  to  his 
own  dwelling,  which  was  situated  on  the  Catawba,  a  short  dis¬ 
tance  above  the  Waxhaws.  This  was  safely  accomplished  on  the 
second  day  after  they  had  left  Gates.  A  short  delay  at  this 
place  enabled  Butler  to  exchange  the  dress  he  had  hitherto  worn, 
for  one  of  a  more  homely  and  rustic  character,  a  measure* 
deemed  necessary  to  facilitate  his  quiet  passage  through  the 
country.  With  these  precautions  he  and  the  trusty  sergeant 
resumed  their  expedition,  and  now  shaped  their  course  across  the 
region  lying  between  the  Catawba  and  Broad  rivers,  with  the 
intention  of  reaching  the  habitation  of  Wat  Adair,  a  well  known 
woodsman  who  lived  on  the  southern  side  of  the  latter  river, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


139 


someivhat  above  its  confluence  with  the  Pacolet.  The  route  they 
had  chosen  for  this  purpose  consisted  of  such  circuitous  and 
unfrequented  paths  as  were  least  likely  to  be  infested  by  the 
scouts  of  the  enemy,  or  by  questioners  who  might  be  too  curious 
regarding  the  object  of  their  journey. 

The  second  week  of  August  had  half  elapsed  when,  towards  the 
evening  of  a  day  that  had  been  distinguished  for  the  exliilarating 
freshness  of  the  atmosphere,  such  as  is  peculiar  to  the  higlilaiids 
of  southern  latitudes  at  this  season,  our  travellers  found  themselves 
descending  through  a  long  and  shady  defile  to  the  level  ground 
that  lay  along  the  margin  of  the  Broad  river.  The  greater  part 
of  the  day  had  been  spent  in  threading  the  mazes  of  a  series  of 
sharp  and  abrupt  hills  covered  with  the  native  forest,  or  winding 
through  narrow  valleys,  amongst  tangled  thickets  of  briers  and 
copsewood,  by  a  path  scarce  wide  enough  to  permit  the  passage 
of  a  single  horse.  They  had  now  emerged  from  the  wilderness 
upon  a  public  highway,  which  extended  across  the  strip  of  lowland 
that  skirted  the  river.  Tlie  proximity  of  the  river  itself  was 
indicated  by  the  nature  of  the  ground,  that  here  retained  vestiges 
of  occasional  inundations,  as  also  by  the  rank  character  of  the 
vegetation.  The  road  led  through  a  swamp,  which  was  rendered 
passable  by  a  causey  of  timber,  and  was  shaded  on  either  side  by 
a  mass  of  shrubbeiy,  composed  of  laurel,  magnolia,  and  such  other, 
plants  as  delight  in  a  moist  soil,  over  whose  foi-ms  a  tissue  of ' 
creeping  plants  was  woven  in  such  profusion  as  to  form  a  fastness 
or  impregnabt'e  retreat  for  all  kinds  of  noxious  animals.  Above 
this  wilderness,  here  and  there,  might  be  seen  in  the  depths  of  the 
morass,  the  robust  cypress  or  the  lurid  pine,  high  enough  for  the 
mast  of  the  largest  ship,  the  ash,  and  gum,  and,  towering  above 
all,  the  majestic  poplar,  with  its  branchless  trunk  bound  up  in  the 
embraces  of  a  huge  serpent-like  grapevine. 

As  soon  as  Butler  found  himself  extricated  from  the  difficult 
path  that  had  so  much  embarrassed  his  journey,  and  once  more 
introduced  upon  a  road  that  allowed  him  to  ride  abreast  with  his 
companion,  he  could  not  help  congratulating  himself  upon  the 
change. 

“  ell,  here  at  last,  Galbraith,”  he  said,  “  is  an  end  to  this 
bridle  path,  as  you  call  it.  Thank  heaven  for  it !  The  settlement 


140 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


of  the  account  between  this  and  the  plain  road  ■would  not  leave 
much  in  our  favor :  on  one  side,  I  should  have  to  set  down  my 
being  twice  unhorsed  in  riding  up  perpendicular  hills ;  one  plunge 
up  to  the  belly  in  the  mud  of  a  swamp ;  a  dozen  times  in  danger 
of  strangling  from  grapevines ;  and  how  often  torn  by  briers,  I 
leave  you  to  reckon  up  by  looking  at  my  clothes.  And  all  this 
is  to  be  cast  up  against  the  chance  of  meeting  a  few  rascally  Tories. 
Faith!  upon  the  whole,  it  would  have  been  as  cheap  to  fight.” 

“  Whist,  Major,  you  are  a  young  man,  and  don’t  study  things 
as  I  do.  You  never  catch  me  without  reason  on  my  side.  As  to 
standing  upon  the  trifle  of  a  man  or  two  odds  in  the  way  of  a 
fight,  when  there  was  need  of  scratching,  I  wouldn’t  he  so 
onaccommodating  as  to  ax  you  to  do  that.  But  I  had  some 
generalship  in  view,  which  I  can  make  appear.  This  road,  which 
we  have  just  got  into,  comes  up  through  Winnsborough,  which  is 
one  of  the  randyvoos  of  the  Tories :  now  I  thought  if  we  out¬ 
flanked  them  by  coming  through  the  hills,  we  mought  keep  our 
heads  out  of  a  hornets’  nest.  The  best  way.  Major  Butler,  to 
get  along  through  this  world  is  not  to  be  quarrelsome  ;  that’s  my 
principle.” 

“  Truly,  it  comes  well  from  you,  sergeant,  who  -within  two  days 
past  have  been  in  danger  of  getting  your  crown  cracked  at  least 
six  times  1  Were  you  not  yesterday  going  to  beat  a  man  only  for 
asking  a  harmless  question  ?  A  rough  fellow  to-boot.  Horse  Shoe, 
w'ho  might,  from  appearance,  have  turned  out  a  troublesome 
customer.” 

“  Ho,  ho,  ho.  Major  !  Do  you  know  who  that  character  was  ? 
That  was  mad  Archy  GibbI,  from  the  Broken  Bridge,  one  of 
the  craziest  devils  after  a  fracaw  on  the  Catawba  ;  a  tearing  Tory 
likewise.” 

“  And  was  that  an  argument  for  wishing  to  fight  him  ?” 

“  Why,  you  see.  Major,  I’ve  got  a  principle  on  that  subject. 
It’s  an  observation  I  have  made,  that  whenever  you  come  across 
one  of  these  rampagious  fellows,  that’s  always  for  breeding  dis¬ 
turbances,  the  best  way  is  to  be  as  fractious  as  themselves.  You 
have  beam  of  the  way  of  putting  out  a  house  on  fire  by  blo-wing 
it  up  with  gunpowder  ?  ” 

“  A  pretty  effectual  method,  Sergeant.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


141 


“  Dog  won’t  eat  dog,”  continued  Horse  Shoe.  “  Ho,  ho !  I 
know  these  characters ;  so  I  always  bullies  them.  When  we 
stopped  yesterday  at  the  surveyor’s,  on  Blair’s  Range,  to  get  a 
little  something  to  eat,  and  that  bevy  of  Tories  came  riding  up, 
with  mad  Archy  at  their  head,  a  thought  struck  me  that  the 
fellows  mought  be  dogging  us,  and  that  sot  me  to  thinking  what 
answer  I  should  make  consarning  you,  if  they  were  to  question 
me.  So,  ecod,  I  made  a  parson  of  you,  ha,  ha,  ha !  Sure  enough, 
they  began  as  soon  as  they  sot  down  in  the  porch,  to  axing  me 
about  my  business,  and  then  about  yourn.  I  told  them,  cor¬ 
respondent  and  accordingly,  that  you  was  a  Presbyterian  minister, 
and  that  I  had  undertook  to  show  you  the  way  to  Chester,  wheje 
you  was  going  to  hold  forth.  And,  thereupon,  mad  Archy  out 
with  one  of  his  tremengious  oaths,  and  swore  he  would  have  a 
sarmint  from  you,  for  the  good  of  his  blackguards,  before  they 
broke  up.” 

“  Mad  Archy  and  his  blackguards  would  have  profited,  no 
doubt,  by  my  spiritual  lessons.” 

“  Rather  than  let  him  have  anything  to  say  to  you,”  proceeded 
Robinson,  “  for  you  wa’n’t  prepared,  seeing  that  you  didn’t  hear 
what  was  going  on,  though  I  spoke  loud  enough,  on  purpose. 
Major,  for  you  to  hear  us  through  the  window  ;  I  up  and  told 
Archy,  says  I,  I  am  a  peaceable  man,  but  I’ll  be  d — d  if  any 
minister  of  the  gospel  shall  be  insulted  whilst  I  have  the  care  of 
him  ;  and,  furthermore,  says  I,  I  didn’t  come  here  to  interrupt  no 
man  ;  but  if  you,  Archy  Gibbs,  or  any  one  of  your  crew,  says 
one  ondecent  word  to  the  parson,  they’ll  run  the  risk  of  being 
flung  sprawling  on  this  here  floor,  afd  that’s  as  good  as  if  I  had 
sworn  to  it ;  and  as  for  you,  Archy,  I’ll  hold  you  accountable  for 
the  good  conduct  of  your  whole  squad.  But,  Major,  you  are 
about  the  hardest  man  to  take  a  wink  I  ever  knowed.  There  was 
I  a  motioning  of  you,  and  signifying  to  get  your  horse  and  be  off, 
at  least  ten  minutes  before  you  took  the  hint.” 

“  I  was  near  spoiling  all,  Galbraith,  for  from  your  familiarity 
with  these  fellows  I  at  first  thought  them  friends.” 

“  They  were  mighty  dubious,  you  may  depend.  And  it  was  as 
much  as  I  could  do  to  keep  them  from  breaking  in  on  you. 
They  said  it  was  strange,  and  so  it  was,  to  see  a  parson  riding 


142 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


witli  jiistols  ;  but  I  told  tliem  you  was  obliged  to  travel  so  mucb 
after  night  that  it  was  as  much  as  you  could  do  to  keep  dear 
of  panthers  and  wolves  ;  and  in  fact,  major,  I  had  to  tell  them  a 
monstrous  sight  of  lies,  just  to  keep  them  in  talk  whilst  you  was 
getting  away  ;  it  was  like  a  rare  guard  scrummaging  by  platoons 
on  a  retreat  to  get  the  advance  ofiF.  I  was  monstrous  afeard,  major, 
you  wouldn’t  saddle  my  horse.” 

“  I  understood  you  at  last,  Galbraith,  and  made  everything 
ready  for  a  masterly  retreat,  and  then  moved  away  with  a  very 
sober  air,  leaving  you  to  bring  up  the  rear  like  a  good  soldier. 
And  you  know,  sergeant,  I  didn’t  go  so  far  but  that  I  was  at  hand 
to  give  you  support,  if  you  had  stood  in  need  of  it.  I  wonder 
now  that  they  let  you  off  so  easily.” 

“  They  didn’t  want  to  have  no  uproar  with  me.  Major  Butler. 
They  knowed  me,  that  although  I  wa’n’t  a  quarrelsome  man, 
they  would’a  got  some  of  their  necks  twisted  if  I  had  seen  occa¬ 
sion  :  in  particular,  I  would  have  taken  some  of  mad  Archy’s 
crazy  fits  out  of  him — by  my  hand  I  would,  major  !  But  I’ll  tell 
you, — I  made  one  observation,  that  this  here  sort  of  carrying 
false  colors  goes  against  a  man’s  conscience  :  it  doesn’t  seem 
natural  for  a  man,  that’s  accustomed  and  willing  to  stand  by 
his  words,  to  be  heaping  one  lie  upon  top  of  another  as  fast  as  he 
can  speak  them.  It  really.  Major  Butler,  does  go  against  my 
grain.” 

“  That  point  of  conscience,”  said  Butler  laughing,  “  has  been  duly 
considered,  and,  I  believe,  we  are  safe  in  setting  it  down  as  entire¬ 
ly  lawful  to  use  any  deceit  of  speech  to  escape  from  an  enemy  in 
time  of  war.  We  have  a  dangerous  trade,  sergeant,  and  the  mor¬ 
alists  indulge  us  more  than  they  do  others  :  and  as  I  am  a  minis¬ 
ter,  you  know,  you  need  not  be  afraid  to  trust  your  conscience  to 
my  keeping.” 

“  They  allow  that  all’s  fair  in  war,  I  believe.  But  it  don’t  signi¬ 
fy,  a  man  is  a  good  while  before  he  gets  used  to  this  flat  lying,  for 
I  can’t  call  it  by  any  other  name.” 

“  If  we  should  be  challenged  on  this  road,  before  we  reach  Wat 
Adair’s,”  said  Butler,  “  it  is  your  opinion  that  we  should  say  we  are 
graziers  going  to  the  mountains  to  buy  cattle.” 

“  That’s  about  the  best  answer  I  can  think  of.  Though  you 


HOESE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


143 


must  be  a  bttle  careful  about  that.  If  you  see  me  put  my  band 
uji  to  my  mouth  and  give  a  sort  of  a  hem,  major,  then  leave  the 
answer  to  me.  A  gang  of  raw  lads  might  be  easily  imposed  upon, 
but  it  wouldn’t  do  if  there’s  an  old  sodger  amongst  them ;  he 
mought  ax  some  hard  questions.” 

“  I  know  but  little  of  this  grazier  craft  to  bear  an  examination. 
I  fear  I  should  fare  badly  if  one  of  these  bullies  should  take  it  into 
his  head  to  cross -question  me.” 

If  a  man  takes  on  too  much  with  you,”  replied  Robinson,  “  it 
It  well  to  be  a  little  saiicy  to  him.  If  he  thinks  you  are  for  a 
quarrel,  the  chances  are  he  rvon’t  pester  you.  But  if  any  of  these 
lories  should  only  take  it  into  their  heads,  without  our  telling  them 
right  down  in  so  many  words,  for  I  would  rather  a  lie,  if  it  is  to 
come  out,  should  take  a  roundabout  wuiy,  that  we  are  sent  up  here 
by  Cornwallis,  or  Rarvdon,  or  Leslie,  or  any  of  their  people  to  do 
an  arrand,  they  will  be  as  civil,  sir,  as  your  grandmother’s  cat,  for, 
major,  they  are  a  blasted  set  of  cringin’  rvhelps,  the  best  of  them, 
and  will  take  anything  that  has  G.  R.  marked  on  it  with  thanks’ 
o\  en  if  it  was  a  cat-o  nine  tails,  which  they  desarve  every  day  at 
rollcall,  the  sorry  devils !” 

“  I  am  completely  at  my  wits’  end,  Galbraith.  I  have  not  done 
much  justice  to  your  appointment  of  me  as  a  parson,  and  w  hen  I 
come  to  play  the  grazier  it  will  be  still  worse ;  even  in  this  disguise 
of  a  plain  countryman  I  make  a  poor  performer;  I  fear  I  shalT dis-" 
grace  the  boards.” 

^“It  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  major,  the  rule  is  run  orfio-ht. 
"W  e  can  manage  that,  at  any  rate,  for  we  have  had  a  good  deal  of 
both  in  the  last  three  or  four  years.” 

“  God  knows  we  have  had  practice  enough,  sergeant,  to  make  us 
perfect  in  that  trick.  Let  us  make  our  way  through  this  treacher¬ 
ous  ground  as  quickly  and  as  quietly  as  we  can.  Get  me  to  Clarke 
by  the  shortest  route,  and  keep  as  much  among  friends  as  you  know¬ 
how'.” 

“  As  to  that,  l^fajor  Butler,  it  is  all  a  matter  of  chance,  for  to 
tell  you  the  plain  truth,  I  don’t  know  who  to  depend  upon.  ’  A 
quick  eye,  a  nimble  foot,  and  a  ready  hand,  will  be  our  surest  friends. 

len  with  the  pistols  at  your  saddle,  besides  a  pair  in  your  pocket, 
and  a  dirk  for  close  quarters,  and  my  rifle  here  for  a  long  shot,’ 


144 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


major,  I  am  not  mucli  doubtful  but  Avbat  we  shall  bold  our 
own.” 

“  How  far  are  we  from  Adair’s  ?”  asked  Butler. 

“  Not  more  than  a  mile,”  replied  Horse  Shoe.  “  You  may  see 
the  feny  just  ahead.  Wat  lives  upon  the  top  of  the  first  hill  on 
the  other  side.” 

“  Is  that  fellow  to  be  trusted,  sergeant  ?” 

“Better  with  the  help  of  gold,  major,  than  without  it.  Wat 
was  never  over  honest.  But  it  is  worth  our  while  to  make  a  friend 
of  him  if  we  can.” 

Our  travellers  had  now  reached  the  river,  which  was  here  a 
smooth  and  deep  stream,  though  by  no  means  so  broad  as  to  entitle  it  to 
the  distinction  by  which,  in  its  lower  portion,  it  has  earned  its  name. 
It  here  flowed  sluggishly  along  in  deep  and  melancholy  shade. 

Butler  and  his  companion  were  destined  to  encounter  a  difficulty 
at  this  spot  which  less  hardy  travellers  would  have  deemed  a 
serious  embarrassment.  The  boat  was  not  to  be  seen  on  either 
side  of  the  river,  having  been  carried  ofl’  a  few  hours  before,  accor¬ 
ding  to  the  information  given  by  the  inmates  of  a  negro  cabin, 
constituting  the  family  of  the  ferryman,  by  a  party  of  soldiers. 

Robinson  regarded  this  obstacle  with  the  resignation  of  a  prac¬ 
tised  philosopher.  He  nodded  his  head  significantly  to  his  com¬ 
panion  upon  receiving  the  intelligence,  as  he  said, 

“  There  is  some  mischief  in  the  wind.  These  Tories  are  always 
dodging  about  in  gangs ;  and  when  they  collect  the  boats  on  the 
river,  it  is  either  to  help  them  forward  on  some  house-burning  and 
thieving  business,  or  to  secure  their  retreat  when  they  expect  to 
have  honest  men  at  their  heels.  It  would  be  good  news  to  hear 
that  Sumptei'  was  near  their  cruppers,  which,  by  the  by,  is  not 
onlikely  neither.  You  would  be  told  of  some  prettj''  sport  then, 
major.” 

“  Sumpter’s  means,  sergeant,”  replied  Butler,  “  I  fear,  are  not 
equal  to  his  will.  There  are  heavy  odds  against  him,  and  it  isn’t 
often  that  he  can  venture  from  his  hiding-place.  But  what  are 
we  to  do  now,  Galbraith  ?” 

“  Ha,  ha !  do  as  we  have  often  done  before  this,  launch  our  four¬ 
legged  ships,  and  take  a  wet  jacket  coolly  and  dispassionately,  as 
that  quare  devil  Lieutenant  Hopkins  used  to  tell  us  when  he  was 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


145 


going  to  make  a  charge  of  the  bagnet.  We  hav’n’t  no  time  to 
lose,  major,  and  if  we  had,  I  don’t  think  the  river  would  run  dry. 
So,  here  goes.” 

With  these  words  Robinson  plunged  into  the  stream,  and,  with 
his  rifle  resting  across  his  shoulder,  he  plied  his  voyage  towards 
the  opposite  bank  with  the  same  unconcern  as  if  he  had  journeyed 
on  dry  land.  As  soon  as  he  Avas  fairly  afloat  he  looked  back  to 
give  a  fcAV  cautions  to  Butler. 

“  Head  slantwise  up  stream,  major,  lean  a  little  forward,  so  as  to 
sink  your  horse’s  nose  nearer  to  the  Avater,  he  swims  all  the  better 
for  it.  Slacken  your  reins  and  give  him  play.  You  have  it  now. 
It  isn’t  oncomfortable  in  a  day’s  ride  to  get  a  cool  seat  once  in  a 
Avhile.  Here  we  are  safe  and  sound,”  he  continued,  as  they  reached 
the  further  margin,  “  and  nothing  the  Avorse  for  the  ferrjdng^ 
excepting  it  be  a  trifle  of  dampness  about  the  breeches.” 

The  two  companions  noAV  galloped  tOAvards  the  higher  grounds 
of  the  adjacent  country. 

By  the  time  that  they  had  gained  the  summit  of  a  long  hill  that 
rose  immediately  from  the  plain  of  the  river,  Robinson  apprised 
Butler  that  they  were  now  in  the  vicinity  of  Adair’s  dwelling. 
The  sun  had  sunk  below  the  horizon,  and  the  varied  lustre  of 
earl)’’  tAvilight  tinged  the  surrounding  scenery  with  its  own  beauti¬ 
ful  colors.  The  road,  as  it  wound  upAvards  gi-adually  emerged  from 
the  forest  upon  a  tract  of  open  country,  given  signs  of  one  of  those 
original  settlements  which,  at  that  day,  were  sparsely  sprinkled 
through  the  great  wilderness.  The  space  that  had  been  snatched 
from  the  ruggedness  of  nature,  for  the  purpose  of  husbandry,  com¬ 
prehended  some  three  or  four  fields  of  thinly  cultivated  land. 
These  Avere  yet  spotted  over  with  stumps  of  trees,  that  seemed  to 
leave  but  little  freedom  to  the  course  of  the  ploughshare,  and 
bespoke  a  thriftless  and  slovenly  tillage.  A  piece  of  half  cleared 
ground,  occupying  the  side  of  one  of  the  adjacent  hills,  presented 
to  the  eye  of  our  travellers  a  yet  more  uncouth  spectacle.  This 
spot  was  still  clothed  Avith  the  native  trees  of  the  forest,  all  of 
which  had  been  death-stricken  by  the  axe,  and  now  heaved  up 
their  withered  and  sapless  branches  towards  the  heavens,  without 
leaf  or  spray.  In  the  phrase  of  the  woodman,  they  had  been 
girdled  some  years  before,  and  \vero  destined  to  await  the  slow 

n 


146 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


decay  of  time  in  tlieir  upright  attitude.  It  was  a  grove  of  huge 
skeletons  that  had  already  been  bleached  into  an  ashy  hue  by  the 
sun,  and  whose  stiff  and  dry  members  rattled  in  the  breeze  with  a 
preternatural  harshness.  Amongst  the  most  hoary  of  these  victims 
of  the  axe,  the  gales  of  winter  had  done  their  work  and  thrown 
them  to  the  earth,  where  the  shattered  boles  and  boughs  lay  as  they 
had  fallen,  and  were  slowly  reverting  into  their  original  dust. 
Others,  whose  appointed  time  had  not  yet  been  fulfilled,  gave 
evidence  of  their  struggle  with  the  frequent  storm,  by  their  decli¬ 
nation  from  the  perpendicular  line.  Some  had  been  caught  in 
falling  by  the  boughs  of  a  sturdier  neighbor,  and  still  leaned  their 
huge  bulks  upon  these  supports,  awakening  the  mind  of  the  spec¬ 
tator  to  the  fancy,  that  they  had  sunk  in  some  deadly  paroxysm 
into  charitable  and  friendly  arms,  and,  thus  locked  together,  abided 
their  tardy  but  irrevocable  doom.  It  was  a  field  of  the  dead ;  and 
the  more  striking  in  its  imagery  from  the  contrast  which  it  furnished 
to  the  rich,  verdurous,  and  hvely  forest  that,  with  all  the  joyousness 
of  health,  encompassed  this  blighted  spot.  Its  aspect  was  one  of 
unpleasant  desolation ;  and  the  traveller  of  the  present  day  who 
visits  our  western  wilds,  where  this  slovenly  practice  is  still  in  use, 
will  never  pass  through  such  a  precinct  without  a  sense  of  disgust 
at  the  disfiguration  of  the  landscape. 

The  field  thus  marred  might  have  contained  some  fifty  acres,  and 
it  was  now  occupied,  in  the  intervals  between  the  lifeless  trunks, 
with  a  feeble  crop  of  Indian  corn,  whose  husky  and  parched  blades, 
as  they  fluttered  in  the  evening  wind,  added  new  and  appropriate 
features  to  the  inexpressible  raggedness  of  the  scene.  The  same 
effect  was  further  aided  and  preserved  by  the  cumbrous  and  un¬ 
seemly  worm  fence  that  shot  forth  its  stiff  angles  around  the  tract. 

On  the  very  apex  of  the  hill  up  which  our  travellers  were  now 
clambering,  was  an  inclosure  of  some  three  or  four  acres  of  land, 
in  the  middle  of  which,  under  the  shade  of  a  tuft  of  trees,  stood  a 
group  of  log  cabins  so  situated  as  to  command  a  view  of  nearly 
every  part  of  the  farm.  The  principal  structure  was  supplied  with 
a  rude  porch  that  covered  three  of  its  sides ;  whilst  the  smoke  that 
curled  upwards  from  a  wide-mouthed  chimney,  and  the  accom¬ 
paniment  of  a  bevy  of  little  negroes  that  were  seen  scattered 
amongst  the  out-houses,  gave  an  air  of  habitation  and  life  to  the 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


147 


place  that  contrasted  well  with  the  stillness  of  the  neighboring 
wood.  A  well-beaten  path  led  into  a  narrow  ravine  where  might 
be  discerned,  peeping  forth  from  the  rveeds,  the  roof  of  a  spring 
house ;  and,  in  the  same  neighborhood,  a  rough  garden  was  ob¬ 
servable,  in  which  a  bed  of  broad-leaved  cabbages  seemed  to  have 
their  ground  disputed  by  a  plentiful  crop  of  burdock,  thistles,  and 
other  intruders  upon  a  manured  soil.  In  this  inclosure,  also,  the 
hollyhock  and  sunflower,  rival  coxcombs  of  the  vegetable  com- 
munityf  gave  their  broad  and  garish  tribute  to  the  beautifying  of 
the  spot. 

The  road  approached  within  some  fifty  paces  of  the  front  of  the 
cabins,  where  access  was  allowed,  not  by  the  help  of  a  gate,  but 
only  by  a  kind  of  ladder  or  stile  formed  of  rails,  which  were  so 
arranged  as  to  furnish  steps  across  the  barrier  of  the  worm  fence 
at  four  or  five  feet  from  the  ground. 

“  Are  you  sure  of  entertainment  here,  Galbraith  ?”  inquired  But¬ 
ler,  as  they  halted  at  the  stile.  “  This  Wat  Adair  is  not  likely  to 
be  churlish,  I  hope  ?” 

“  I  don’t  think  I  am  in  much  humor  to  be  turned  away,”  replied 
Robinson.  “  It’s  my  opinion  that  a  man  who  has  rode  a  whole 
day- has  a  sort  of  right  to  quarters  wherever  the  night  finds  him — 
providing  he  pays  for  what  he  gets.  But  I  have  no  doubt  of  Wat, 
Major.  Holloa!  who’s  at  home?  Wat  Adair!  Wat  Adair! 
Travellers,  man  !  Show  yourself.” 

“  Who  are  you  that  keep  such  a  racket  at  the  fence  there  ?”  de¬ 
manded  a  female  voice.  “  What  do  you  mean  by  such  doings 
before  a  peaceable  house  ?” 

“  Keep  your  dogs  silent,  ma’am,”  returned  Horse  Shoe,  in  a  blunt 
and  loud  key,  “  and  you  will  hear  us.  If  you  are  Wat  Adair’s 
wife  you  are  as  good  as  master  of  this  house.  We  want  a  night’s 
lodging  and  must  have  it — and  besides,  we  have  excellent  sto¬ 
machs,  and  mean  to  pay  for  all  we  get.  Ain’t  that  reason  enough  to 
satisfy  a  sensible  woman,  Mrs.  Adair  ?” 

“  If  you  come  to  make  disturbance,”  said  a  man  of  a  short  and 
sturdy  figure,  who  at  this  moment  stepped  out  from  the  house  and 
took  a  position  in  front  of  it,  w-ith  a  rifle  in  his  hand — “  if  you 
come  here  to  insult  a  quiet  family  you  had  best  turn  your  horses’ 
heads  up  the  road  and  jog  further.” 


148 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“We  miglit  do  tliat,  sir,  and  fai-e  ivorse,”  said  Butler,  in  a  con¬ 
ciliatory  tone.  “  You  have  no  need  of  your  gun  ;  we  are  harm¬ 
less  travellers  who  have  come  a  long  way  to  get  under  your  roof.” 

“  Where  from  ?”  asked  the  other. 

“  From  below,”  said  Horse  Shoe  promptly. 

“  What  side  do  you  take  ?” 

“  Your  side  for  to-night,”  returned  Robinson  again.  “  Don’t  be 
ohstropolous,  friend,”  he  continued,  at  the  same  time  dismounting, 
“we  have  come  on  purpose  to  pay  Wat  a  visit,  and  if  you  ha’n’t 
got  no  brawlers  in  the  house,  you  needn’t  be  afraid  of  us.” 

By  this  time  the  sergeant  had  crossed  the  stile  and  approached 
the  questioner,  to  whom  he  offered  his  hand.  The  man  gazed  for 
a  moment  upon  his  visitor,  and  then  asked — 

“  Isn’t  this  Galbraith  Robinson  ?” 

“  They  call  me  so,”  replied  Horse  Shoe  ;  “  and  if  I  ain’t  mis¬ 
taken,  this  is  Michael  Lynch.  You  wan’t  going:  to  shoot  at  us, 
Michael  ?” 

“  A  man  must  have  sharp  eyes  when  he  looks  in  the  face  of  a 
neighbor  now-a-days,”  said  the  other.  “  Come  in ;  Wat’s  wife 
will  be  glad  to  see  you.  Wat  himself  will  be  home  presently. 
Who  have  you  here,  Galbraith  ?” 

“  This  is  Mr.  Butler,”  answered  Horse  Shoe,  as  the  Major  joine^ 
them.  “  He  and  me  are  taking  a  ride  across  into  Georgia,  and  y%, 
thought  we  would  give  Wat  a  call  just  to  hear  the  news.” 

“  You  are  apt  to  fetch  more  news  than  you  will  take  away,”  re¬ 
plied  the  other ;  “  but  there  is  a  good  deal  doing  now  in  all  quar¬ 
ters.  Howsever,  go  into  the  house,  we  must  give  you  something 
to  eat  and  a  bed  besides.” 

After  putting  their  horses  in  charge  of  a  negi’o  who  now  ap¬ 
proached  in  the  character  of  an  ostler,  our  adventurers  followed 
Michael  Lynch  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 


A  woodman’s  family. 

The  apartment  into  whicli  the  travellers  were  introduced  was 
one  of  large  dimensions,  conspicuous  for  its  huge  kitchen-like  fire¬ 
place  and  ample  chimney.  The  floor,  consisting  of  broad  planks, 
was  so  much  warped  as,  in  several  places,  to  show  the  ground 
throuD'h  the  chinks.  The  furniture  was  of  the  rudest  form  and 

O 

most  homely  materials.  Three  or  four  rifles  were  suspended 
against  the  walls,  together  with  some  trapping  implements  and 
various  skins  of  such  wild  animals  of  prey  and  game  as  abounded 
in  the  woods  of  this  region  :  these  were  associated  with  the  antlers 
of^the  buck,  powder-horns,  hunting  pouches,  and  a  few  articles  of 
clothing, — the  ■^v'hole  array  giving  to  the  room  that  air  of  wood¬ 
land  life  which  denotes  the  habitation  of  a  hunter,  and  which  so 
distinctly  characterizes  the  dwellings  of  our  frontier  population. 

Amongst  other  articles  of  household  use  was  a  large  spinning- 
wheel  that  was  placed  near  the  door,  and  beside  it  stood  the  dame 
who  had  first  challenged  the  visitors.  She  was  a  woman  who  could 
scarcely  be  said  to  have  reached  the  middle  period  of  life,  although 
her  wan  and  somewhat  haggard  features,  and  a  surly,  discontented 
expression  of  face,  might  well  induce  an  observer  to  attribute  more 
years  to  her  worldly  account  than  she  had  actually  seen.  The 
presence  of  a  rough  and  untidy  cradle  and  some  five  or  six  children, 
the  majority  of  whom  might  be  below  three  feet  in  stature,  served 
in  some  degree  to  explain  the  care-worn  and  joyless  countenance  of 
the  hostess.  When  Butler  and  his  companion  were  ushered  by 
L)'nch  into  her  presence,  she  gave  them  no  other  welcome  than  a 
slight  nod  of  the  head,  and  continued  to  ply  her  task  at  the  wheel 
with  unremitted  assiduity. 

In  another  corner  of  the  room  sat  a  smart-looking  young  girl 
who,  at  this  moment,  was  employed  in  carding  wool.  She  was  a 


150 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


sylvan  Hebe,  just  verging  upon  womanhood,  with  a  round,  active, 
and  graceful  figure,  which  was  adorned  with  that  zealous  attention 
to  neatness  and  becoming  ornament  which,  in  every  station  of  life, 
to  a  certain  extent,  distinguishes  those  of  the  sex  Avho  are  gifted 
with  beauty.  Her  cheek  had  the  rich  bloom  of  high  health ;  a 
full  round  blue  eye  seemed  habitually  to  laugh  with  pleasure ;  and 
the  same  trick  of  a  happy  temperament  had  stamped  its  mark 
upon  the  lines  of  her  mouth.  Her  accost  was  altogether  dift’erent 
from  that  of  the  mistress  of  the  house.  She  arose  from  her  work 
immediately  upon  the  entrance  of  the  strangers,  courtesied  with  a 
modest  and  silent  reserve,  and  then  proceeded  to  gather  up  the 
rolls^  of  carded  wool  at  her  feet  and  to  dispose  of  them  in  a  chest 
near  at  hand.  Having  done  this,  she  left  the  apartment,  not  with¬ 
out  casting  sundry  prying  glances  towards  the  guests. 

Another  member  of  the  family  was  an  aged  female :  she  had 
perhaps  seen  her  eightieth  winter.  Her  attenuated  frame  seemed 
to  be  hovering  on  the  verge  of  dissolution :  a  hollow  cheek,  a 
sunken,  moist  eye,  and  a  tremulous  palsied  motion  of  the  head 
denoted  the  melancholy  period  of  dotage  ;  and  it  was  apparent  at  a 
glance  that  this  unfortunate  being  had  far  outlived  both  her  capa¬ 
city  for  enjoyment  and  the  sympathy  of  her  kindred.  She  now  sat 
in  a  low  elbow-chair,  with  her  head  almost  in  contact  with  her 
knees,  upon  the  stone  hearth,  bending  over  a  small  fire  of  brush¬ 
wood  which  had  been  kindled  as  well  for  the  purpose  of  preparing 
the  evening  meal  as  for  the  comfort  of  the  ancient  dame  herself — 
the  chilliness  of  nightfall  rendering  this  additional  warmth  by  no 
means  unpleasant.  The  beldam  silently  smoked  a  short  pipe, 
unmoved  by  anything  that  occurred  in  the  apartment,  and  appa¬ 
rently  engrossed  with  the  trivial  care  of  directing  the  smoke,  as 
she  puflfed  it  from  her  lips,  into  a  cuiTent  that  should  take  it  up 
the  chimney. 

Michael  Lynch,  who  acted  as  landlord  in  the  casual  absence  of 
Wat  Adair,  had  no  other  connexion  with  the  family  than  that  of 
being  joint  owner,  with  the  lord  of  this  wild  domain,  of  a  small 
saw-mill  in  the  vicinity,  the  particular  superintendence  of  which 
was  his  especial  province.  He  was,  therefore,  at  particular  seasons 
of  the  year,  an  in-dweller  at  the  homestead,  and  sufficiently  in 
authority  to  assume  a  partial  direction  in  the  afifairs  of  the  house. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


151 


This  maa  now  replaced  his  rifle  upon  the  pegs  appropriated  to 
receive  it,  and  then  oflTered  Butler  and  Robinson  chairs,  as  he  said 
to  the  mistress  of  the  family  : — 

“  Here’s  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,  Mrs.  Adair  ;  and  this  other  man 
I  think  they  call  Mr.  Butler.  They’ve  come  for  a  night’s  lodging. 
I  believe  Wat  will  be  right  glad  to  see  them.” 

“You  are  not  often  visited  with  travellers  in  this  part  of  the 
country,”  said  Butler,  addressing  the  matron  as  he  drew  his  chair 
near  to  the  fire  to  dry  his  clothes. 

“  We  have  enough  of  them,  such  as  they  are,”  replied  the 
woman ;  “  and  it’s  a  dangerous  thing,  when  there’s  so  many 
helpless  women  at  home,  to  be  opening  the  door  to  all  sorts  of 
persons.” 

“  You,  at  least,  run  no  risk  in  ofiering  shelter  to  us  this  even¬ 
ing,”  returned  Butler ;  “  we  are  strangers  to  the  quarrel  that  pre¬ 
vails  in  your  district.” 

“  People  puts  on  so  many  pretences,”  said  the  woman,  “  that 
there’s  no  knowing  them.” 

“  You  have  a  fine  troop  of  boys  and  girls,”  continued  Butler, 
patting  the  head  of  one  of  the  boys  who  had  summoned  courage 
to  approach  him,  after  various  shy  reconnoitrings  of  his  person. 
“  Your  settlement  will  require  enlargement  before  long.” 

“  There  is  more  children  than  is  needful,”  replied  the  hostess  ; 
“  they  are  troublesome  brats ;  but  poor  people  generally  have  the 
luck  that  way.”  ^ 

“  Does  your  husband  ever  serve  with  the  army,  madam  ?”  asked 
Butler. 

The  woman  stopped  spinning  for  a  moment,  and  turning  her 
face  towards  Butler  with  a  scowl,  muttered, 

“  How  does  that  matter  concern  you  ?” 

“  Pardon  me,”  replied  Butler ;  “  I  was  recommended  to  Mr. 
Adair  as  a  friend,  and  supposed  I  might  approach  his  house  with¬ 
out  suspicion.” 

“Wat  Adair  is  a  fool,”  said  the  wife  ;  “  who  is  never  content 
but  when  he  has  other  people  thrusting  their  spoons  into  his 
mess.” 

“  Wat’s  a  wiser  man  than  his  wife,”  interrupted  Robinson 
bluntly,  “  and  takes  good  care  that  no  man  thrusts  his  spoon  into 


152 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


his  mess  without  paying  for  it.  You  know  Wat  and  me  knows 
each  other  of  old,  Mrs.  Adair;  and  devil  a  ha’penny  did  Wat 
ever  lose  by  good  manners  yet.” 

“  And  who  are  you  to  talk,  forsooth.  Horse  Shoe  Robinson !” 
exclaimed  the  ill-favored  dame,  tartly.  “  Who  are  you  to  talk  of 
Wat  Adair  ?  If  h.e  knows  you  he  knows  no  good  of  you.  I’m 
sm-e  ?  I  warrant  you  have  come  here  on  honest  business  now — 
you  and  your  tramping  friend.  What  do  you  do  up  here  in  the 
woods,  when  there  is  work  enough  for  hearty  men  below  ?  Ho 
good,  I  will  undertake.  It  is  such  as  you.  Horse  Shoe  Robinson, 
and  your  drinking,  rioting,  broadsword  cronies  that  has  given 
us  all  our  troubles  here.  You  know  Wat  Adah’!” 

“A  little  consideration,  good  woman!  Hot  so  fast;  you  run 
yourself  out  of  breath,”  said  Robinson  mildly,  interrupting  this  flood 
of  objurgation.  “  Why,  you  are  as  spiteful  as  a  hen  with  a  fresh 
brood!  Remember,  Wat  and  me  are  old  friends.  Wat  has 
been  at  my  house  both  before  the  war  and  since,  and  I  have  been 
here — all  in  friendship  you  know.  And  many’s  the  buck  I 
have  helped  Wat  to  fetch  down.  What’s  the  use  of  tantrums  ? 
If  we  had  been  thieves,  Mrs.  Adair,  you  couldn’t  have 
sarved  us  worse.  Why,  it’s  onreasonable  in  you  to  fly  in  a  man’s 
face  so.” 

“  I’ll  vouch  for  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,  Mrs.  Peggy  Adair,”  said 
Lynch.  “You  oughtn’t  to  think  harm  of  him;  and  you  know 
it  isn’t  long  since  we  heard  Wat  talk  of  him,  and  say  he  would 
hke  to  see  him  once  more  !” 

“  Well,  it’s  my  way,”  replied  the  hostess,  soothed  down  into  a 
placid  mood  by  this  joint  expostulation.  “We  have  had  cause  to 
be  suspicious,  and  I  own  I  am  suspicious.  But,  Horse  Shoe 
Robinson,  I  can’t  say  I  have  anything  against  you ;  you  and 
your  friend  may  be  welcome  for  me.” 

“  Heyday !”  exclaimed  the  old  crone  from  the  chimney  corner. 
“  Who  is  talking  about  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  ?  Is  this  Horse 
Shoe  ?  Come  here,  good  man,”  she  said,  beckoning  with  her 
finger  to  the  sergeant.  “  Come  close  and  let  me  look  at  you. 
Galbraith  Robinson,  as  I  am  a  sinner  !  All  the  way  from  the 
Waxhaws.  Who’d  ’a  thought  to  find  you  here  amongst  the 
Tories  ?  Such  a  racketing  whig  as  you  !  Heyday  !” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


153 


“  Whisht,  granny  !”  said  Robinson  almost  in  a  whisper.  “  Don’t 
call  names.” 

“We  are  all  Tories  here,”  said  the  old  woman,  heedless  of  the 
sergeant’s  caution,  “  ever  since  last  Thursday,  when  the  handsome 
English  oflBcer  was  here  to  see  Watty,  and  to  count  out  his  gold 
like  pebble-stones.” 

“  Grandmother,  you  talk  nonsense,”  said  the  wife. 

“  Old  Mistress  Crosby,”  interposed  Robinson,  “  is  as  knowing  as 
she  ever  was.  It’s  a  mark  of  sense  to  be  able  to  tell  the  day  of  the 
week  when  a  man  changes  his  coat.  But,  granny,  you  oughtn’t 
to  talk  of  Wat’s  seeing  an  English  officer  in  his  house.” 

“  Golden  guineas,  honey  !”  continued  the  drivelling  old  woman. 
“  All  good  gold  !  And  a  proud  clinking  they  make  in  Watty’s 
homespun  pocket.  A  countryman’s  old  leather  bag,  Galbraith 
Robinson,  doesn’t  often  scrape  acquaintance  with  the  image  of  the 
king’s  head — ha,  ha,  ha !  It  makes  me  laugh  to  think  of  it ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha !  Watty’s  nose  cocked  up  so  high  too  !  Wffio  but  he, 
the  proud  gander  !  Strutting  like  quality.  Well,  well,  pride  will 
have  a  fall,  some  day,  that’s  the  Lord’s  truth.  Both  pockets  full !” 
slie^ontinued,  muttering  broken  sentences  and  laughing  so  vio¬ 
lently  that  the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

“If  you  call  Wat  Adair  your  friend,”  interrupted  the  wife  sul¬ 
lenly,  and  addressing  Robinson,  “  you  will  show  your  sense  by 
keeping  away  from  this  foolish  old  woman.  She  is  continually 
raving  with  some  nonsense  that  she  dreams  of  nights.  You  ought 
to  see  that  she  is  only  half  witted.  It’s  sinful  to  encourage  her 
talking.  Grandmother,  you  had  better  go  to  your  bed.” 

“  Come  this  way,  deary,”  said  the  beldam,  addressing  an  infant 
that  toddled  across  the  floor  near  to  her  seat,  at  the  same  time 
extending  her  shrivelled  arm  to  receive  it.  “  Come  to  the  old 
body,' pretty  darling  !” 

“  No,”  lisped  the  child  with  an  angi-y  scream,  and  instantly 
made  its  way  towards  the  door. 

“  Then  do  you  come  to  me,  Peggy,”  she  said,  looking  up  at  her 
granddaughter,  the  mistress  of  the  family,  who  was  still  busy  with 
her  wheel.  “  Wipe  my  old  eye  with  your  handkerchief.  Don’t 
you  see  I  have  laughed  my  eyes  dim  at  Watty  and  his  gold  ? 
And  fill  my  pipe  again,  Peggy.” 


1* 


164 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Instead  of  obeying  this  command,  the  mother  left  her  spinning, 
and  ran  with  some  precipitation  towards  the  door  to  catch  up  the 
child,  who  had  staggered  to  the  very  verge  of  the  sill,  where  it 
paused  in  imminent  peril  of  falling  headlong  down  the  step  ;  and 
having  rescued  it  from  its  danger,  she  returned  with  the  infant  in 
her  arms  to  a  chair,  where,  without  scruple  at  the  presence  of  her 
visitors,  she  uncovered  her  bosom  and  administered  to  her  off¬ 
spring  that  rich  and  simple  bounty  which  nature  has  so  lavishly 
’  provided  for  the  sustenance  of  our  first  and  tenderest  days  of 
helplessness. 

“  Well-a-day,  I  see  how  it  is  !”  muttered  the  grandmother  in  an 
accent  of  reproof,  “  that’s  the  way  of  the  world.  Love  is  like  a 
running  river,  it  goes  downwards,  but  doesn’t  come  back  to  the 
spring.  The  poor  old  granny  in  the  chimney  corner  is  a  withered 
tree  up  the  stream,  and  the  youngest  born  is  a  pretty  flower  on  the 
bank  below.  Love  leaves  the  old  tree  and  goes  to  the  flower.  It 
went  from  me  to  Peggy’s  mother,  and  so  downwards  and  down¬ 
wards,  but  it  never  will  come  back  again.  The  old  graflny’s  room 
is  more  wanted  than  her  company  ;  she  ought  to  be  nailed  up  in 
her  coffin  and  put  to  sleep  down,  down  in  the  cold  ground.  Well, 
well !  But  Watty’s  a  proud  wretch,  that’s  for  certain  !” 

In  this  strain  the  aged  dame  continued  to  pour  forth  a  stream 
of  garrulity  exhibiting  a  mixture  of  the  silly  dreamings  of  dotage, 
with  a  curious  remainder  of  the  scraps  and  saws  of  former  experi¬ 
ence — a  strange  compound  of  futile  drivelling  and  shrewd  and 
quick  sagacity. 

During  the  period  of  the  foregoing  dialogue,  preparations  were 
making  for  supper.  These  were  conducted  principally  under  the 
superintendence  of  our  Hebe,  who,  my  reader  will  recollect,  some 
time  since  escaped  from  the  room,  and  who,  as  Butler  learned,  in 
the  course  of  the  evening,  was  a  niece  of  Adair’s  wife  and  bore  the 
kindly  name  of  Mary  Musgrove.  The  part  which  she  took  in  the 
concerns  of  the  family  was  in  accordance  with  the  simple  manners 
of  the  time,  and  such  as  might  be  expected  from  her  relationship. 
She  was  now  seen  arranging  a  broad  table,  and  directing  the 
domestics  in  the  disposition  of  sundry  dishes  of  venison,  bacon,  and 
corn  bread,  with  such  other  items  of  fare  as  belonged  to  the 
sequestered  and  forest-bound  region  in  which  Adair  resided. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


155 


Mary  was  frequently  caught  directing  her  regards  towards 
Butler,  whose  face  w’as  handsome  enough  to  have  rendered  such  a 
thing  quite  natural  from  a  young  girl :  hut  she  seemed  to  be  moved 
by  more  than  ordinary  interest,  as  the  closeness  of  her  scrutiny 
almost  implied  a  suspicion  in  her  mind  of  his  disguise.  In  truth 
there  was  some  incongruity  between  his  manners  and  the  peasant  , 
dress  he  wore,  which  an  eye  like  Mary’s  might  have  detected,  not¬ 
withstanding  the  plainness  of  demeanor  which  Butler  studied  to 
assume. 

“We  have  nothing  but  corn  bread  in  the  house,”  said  Mary  in 
a  low  tone  to  her  kinswoman,  “  perhaps  the  gentlemen  (here  she 
directed  her  eye,  for  the  fiftieth  time,  to  Butler)  expected  to  get 
wheat.  Had  I  not  better  pull  some  roasting-ears  from  the  garden  and 
prepare  them  ?  they  will  not  be  amiss  with  our  milk  and  butter.” 

“Bless  you,  my  dear,”  said  Butler,  thrown  completely  off  his 
guard,  and  showing  more  gallantry  than  belonged  to  the  station 
he  affected.  “  Give  yourself  no  trouble  on  my  account ;  we  can 
eat  anything.  I  delight  in  corn  cakes,  and  will  do  ample  justice  to 
this  savory  venison.  Pray  do  not  concern  yourself  for  us.” 

“  It  is  easy  as  running  to  the  garden,”  said  Mary  in  a  sweet  and 
almost  laughing  tone. 

“  That’s  further,  my  dear,”  replied  Butler,  “  than  I  choose  you 
should  run  at  this  time  of  night.  It  is  dark,  my  pretty  girl.” 

“  Gracious !”  returned  Mary  with  natural  emotion,  “  do  you 
think  I  am  afraid  to  go  as  far  as  the  garden  in  the  dark  ?  We 
have  no  witches  or  fairies  in  our  hills  to  hurt  us  :  and  if  we  had,  I 
know  how  to  keep  them  away.” 

“  And  how  might  that  be  ?” 

“  By  saying  my  prayers,  sir.  My  father  taught  me,  before  my 
head  was  as  high  as  the  back  of  this  chair,  a  good  many  prayers  : 
and  he  told  me  they  would  protect  me  from  all  sorts  of  harm,  if  I 
only  said  them  in  right  earnest.  And  I  hear  many  old  people, 
who  ought  to  know,  say  the  same  thing.” 

“Your  father  taught  you  well  and  wisely,”  replied  Butler; 

“  prayer  will  guard  us  against  many  ills,  and  chiefly  against  our¬ 
selves.  But  against  the  harm  that  others  may  do  us,  we  should^ 
not  forget  that  prudence  is  also  a  good  safeguard.  It  is  always  j 
well  to  avoid  a  dangerous  path.”  -..y 


156 


IIORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  But,  for  all  that,”  said  the  maiden  smihng,  “  I  am  not  afraid  to 
go  as  far  as  the  garden.” 

“  If  you  mean  to  get  the  corn,”  interrupted  Mistress  Adair,  in  no 
very  kindly  tone,  “  you  had  as  well  go  without  all  this  talk.  I 
warrant  if  you  listen  to  every  man  who  thinks  it  worth  while  to 
jabber  in  your  ear,  you  will  find  harm  enough,  without  going  far 
to  seek  it.” 

“  I  thought  it  was  only  civil  to  speak  when  I  was  spoken  to,” 
replied  Mary,  with  an  air  of  mortification.  “  But  I  will  be  gone 
this  moment;”  and  with  these  words  the  girl  went  forth  upon  her 
errand. 

A  moment  only  elapsed  when  the  door  was  abruptly  thrown 
open,  and  the  tall  and  swarthy  figure  of  Wat  Adair  strode  into 
the  room.  The  glare  of  the  blazing  faggots  of  pine  which  had 
been  thrown  on  the  fire  to  light  up  the  apartment,  fell  broadly 
over  his  person,  and  flung  a  black  and  uncouth  shadow  across  the 
floor  and  upon  the  opposite  wall ;  thus  magnifying  his  proportions 
and  imparting  a  picturesque  character  to  his  outward  man.  A 
thin,  dark,  weather-beaten  countenance,  animated  by  a  bright  and 
restless  eye,  expressed  cunning  rather  than  hardihood,  and  seemed 
habitually  to  alternate  between  the  manifestations  of  waggish 
vivacity  and  distrust.  The  person  of  this  individual  might  be  said^ 
from  its  want  of  symmetry  and  from  a  certain  slovenly  and 
ungraceful  stoop  in  the  head  and  shoulders,  to  have  been 
protracted,  rather  than  tall.  It  better  deserved  the  description  of 
sinewy  than  muscular,  and  communicated  the  idea  of  toughness  in 
a  gi'eater  degree  than  strength.  His  arms  and  legs  were  long  ;  and 
the  habit  of  keeping  the  knee  bent  as  he  walked,  suggested  a 
remote  resemblance  in  his  gait  to  that  of  a  panther  and  other  ani¬ 
mals  of  the  same  species  ;  it  seemed  to  be  adapted  to  a  sudden  leap 
or  spring. 

His  dress  was  a  coarse  and  short  hunting-shirt  of  dingy  gi-een, 
trimmed  with  a  profusion  of  fringe,  and  sufficiently  open  at  the 
collar  to  disclose  his  long  and  gaunt  neck  :  a  black  leather  belt 
supported  a  hunting  knife  and  wallet ;  whilst  a  pair  of  rude  deer¬ 
skin  moccasins  and  a  cap  manufactured  from  the  sMn  of  some  wild 
animal,  and  now  deprived  of  its  hair  by  long  use,  supplied  the 
indispensable  gear  to  either  extremity  of  his  person. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


157 


Adair’s  first  care  was  to  bestow  in  their  proper  places  his  rifle 
and  powder-horn ;  then  to  disburden  himself  of  a  number  of 
squirrels  which  were  strung  carelessly  over  his  person,  and,  finally, 
to  throw  himself  into  a  chair  that  occupied  one  side  of  the  fire¬ 
place.  The  light  for  a  moment  blinded  him,  and  it  was  not  until 
he  shaded  his  brow  with  his  hand  and  looked  across  the  hearth, 
that  he  became  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  strangers.  His  first 
gaze  was  directed  to  Butler,  to  whom  he  addressed  the  common 
interrogatory,  “  Travelhng  in  these  parts,  sir  ?”  and,  before  time  was 
afforded  for  a  reply  to  this  accost,  his  eye  recognised  the  sergeant, 
upon  which,  starting  from  his  seat,  he  made  up  to  our  sturdy  friend, 
and  slapping  him  famiharly  on  the  back,  uttered  a  chuckling 
laugh,  as  he  exclaimed : 

“  Why,  Galbraith,  is  it  you,  man  ?  To  be  sure  it  is  I  What 
wind  has  blown  you  up  here  ?  Have  you  been  running  from  red 
coats,  or  are  you  hunting  of  Tories,  or  are  you  looking  for  beeves  ? 
Who  have  you  got  with  you  here  ?” 

“  W at,  it  don’t  consarn  you  to  know  what  brought  us  here — it 
is  only  your  business  to  do  the  best  you  can  for  us  whilst  we  are 
here,”  replied  the  sergeant;  “  This  here  gentleman  is  Mr.  Butler,  a 
friend  of  mine  that  wants  to  get  across  into  Georgia  ;  and  trouble 
enough  we’ve  had  to  find  our  way  this  far,  Wat  Adair.  You’ve 
got  such  an  uproarious  country,  and  such  a  cursed  set  of  quarrel¬ 
some  devils  in  it,  that  a  peaceable  man  is  clean  out  of  fashion 
amongst  you.  AVe  are  as  wet  as  muskrats  in  swimming  the  river^ 
and  as  hungry  as  wolves  in  winter.” 

“  And  happy,”  said  Butler,  “  to  be  at  last  under  the  roof  of  a 
friend.” 

“  Well,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  both,”  replied  AVat.  “  What  put 
it  in  my  head,  Galbraith,  I  am  sure  I  can’t  tell,  but  I  was  thinking 
about  you  this  very  day ;  said  I  to  myself,  I  should  just  like  to  see 
I  lorse  Shoe  Robinson,  the  onconceivable,  superfluous,  roaring  devil ! 
Haw,  haw,  haw  !” 

“  You  were  ashamed  of  your  own  company,  AVat,  and  wanted 
to  see  a  decent  man  once  more,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  echoing  the 
laugh. 

“  Mary  Musgrove,  bustle,  girl,”  said  the  woodman,  as  the  maiden 
entered  the  room  with  her  arms  loaded  with  ears  of  Indian  com  ; 


158 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  bustle,  mink !  here  are  two  runaways  with  stomachs  like  mill¬ 
stones  to  grind  your  corn.  Horse  Shoe,  get  uji  from  that  chist, 
man  ;  I  can  give  you  a  little  drop  of  liquor,  if  you  will  let  me 
rummage  there  for  it.  Marcus,  boy,  go  bring  us  in  a  jug  of  cool 
water.  Wife,  I’m  ’stonished  you  didn’t  think  of  giving  our  friends 
something  to  drink  afore.” 

“  I  am  sure  I  don’t  pretend  to  know  friend  from  foe,”  returned 
the  dame  ;  “  and  it  is  a  bad  way  to  find  that  out  by  giving  them 
liquor.” 

When  the  boy  returned  with  the  water,  and  the  host  had  helped 
his  guests  to  a  part  of  the  contents  of  a  fiask  which  had  been  ex¬ 
tracted  from  the  chest,  Butler  took  occasion  to  commend  the 
alacrity  of  the  young  servitor. 

“  This  is  one  of  your  children,  I  suppose  ?” 

“A  sort  of  a  pet  cub,”  replied  the  woodman;  “just  a  small 
specimen  of  my  fetching  up :  trees  squirrels  like  a  dog — got  the 
nose  of  a  hound — can  track  a  raccoon  in  the  dark — and  the  most 
meddlesome  imp  about  fire-arms  you  ever  see.  Here  t’  other  day 
got  my  rifle  and  shot  away  half  the  hah  from  his  sister’s  head ; 
but  I  reckon  I  skinned  him  for  it !  You  can  answer  for  that,  Mar¬ 
cus,  you  shaver,  eh  ?” 

“  I  expect  you  did,”  answered  the  boy  pertly,  “  but  I  don’t  mind 
a  whipping  when  I’ve  got  room  to  dodge.” 

“  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Butler,  how  I  come  to  call  that  boy  Mar¬ 
cus  ?”  said  Adair. 

“  It  is  one  of  your  family  names,  perhaps.” 

“  Not  a  bit.  There’s  nare  another  boy  nor  man  in  this  whole 
country  round  has  such  a  name — nor  woman,  neither.  It’s  a  to¬ 
tally  oncommon  name.  I  called  him  after  that  there  Frenchman 
that’s  come  out  here  to  help  General  Washington — Marcus  Lafay¬ 
ette  ;  and  I  think  it  sounds  mighty  well.” 

Butler  laughed,  as  he  replied,  “  That  was  a  soldierly  thought  of 
yours.  I  think  you  must  call  your  next  Baron,  after  our  old  Prus¬ 
sian  friend  De  Kalb.” 

“Do  you  hear  that,  wife  ?”  exclaimed  Wat.  “Keep  that  in 
your  head,  if  it  will  hold  there  a  twelvemonth.  No  occasion  to 
wait  longer,  haw  !  haw  !  haw  !” 

“  Wat  talks  like  a  natural  born  fool,”  retorted  the  wife.  “We 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


159 


have  no  friends  nor  enemies  on  any  side.  The  boy  was  called 
Marcus  because  Watty  was  headstrong,  and  not  because  we  cared 
any  more  for  one  general  nor  another.  I  dare  say  there  is  faults 
enough  on  both  sides,  if  the  truth  was  told ;  and  I  can’t  see  what 
people  in  the  woods  have  to  do  with  all  this  jarring  about  liberty 
and  such  nonsense.” 

“Hold  your  tongue!”  said  Wat.  “Boil  your  kettle,  and  give' 
us  none  of  your  tinkling  brass,  as  the  Bible  calls  it.  You  see. 
Horse  Shoe,  there’s  such  ridings  and  burnings,  and  shooting  and 
murder  about  here,  that  these  women  are  scared  out  of  the  little 
wits  God  has  given  them  ;  and  upon  that  account  we  are  obliged 
sometimes  to  play  a  little  double,  just  to  keep  out  of  harm’s  way. 
But  I  am  sure  I  wish  no  ill  to  the  Continental  army.” 

“If  we  thought  you  did,  Wat,”  replied  Robinson,  “we  would 
have  slept  on  the  hill  to-night,  rather  than  set  foot  across  the  sill 
of  your  door.  Howsever,  let’s  say  nothing  about  that ;  I  told  Mr. 
Butler  that  you  would  give  us  the  best  you  had,  and  so  you 
will.  I  have  known  Wat  Adair,  Mr.  Butler,  a  good  many  years. 
We  used  to  call  him  Wat  with  the  double  hand.  Show  us  your 
fist  here,  Wat.  Look  at  that,  sir  !  it’s  as  broad  as  a  shovel !” 

“  Cutting  of  trees,”  said  the  woodman,  as  he  spread  his  large 
horny-knuckled  hand  upon  the  supper  table,  “  and  handling  of 
logs,  will  make  any  man’s  ^law  broad,  and  mine  wa’n’t  small  at 
first.” 

“  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  1”  ejaculated  the  sergeant,  “  you  ha’n’t  forgot 
Dick  Rowley  over  here  on  Congaree,  W’’at, — Walloping  Dick,  as 
they  nicknamed  him — and  the  scrimmage  you  had  with  him  when 
he  sot  to  laughing  at  you  because  they  accused  you  for  being  light- 
fingered,  and  your  letting  him  see  that  you  had  a  heavy  hand,  by 
giving  him  the  full  weight  of  it  upon  his  ear  that  almost  drove  him 
through  the  window  of  the  bar-room  at  the  Cross  Roads  1  You 
ha’n’t  forgot  that — and  his  drawing  his  knife  on  you  ?” 

“  To  be  sure  I  ha’n’t.  That  fellow  was  about  as  superfluous  a 
piece  of  wicked  flesh  as  I  say — as  a  man  would  meet  on  a  sum¬ 
mer’s  day  journey.  But  for  all  that.  Horse  Shoe,  he  wa’n’t  going 
to  supererogate  me,  without  getting  as  good  as  he  sent.  When  I 
come  across  one  of  your  meny  fellows  that’s  for  playing  cantraps 
on  a  man,-it’s  my  rule  to  make  them  pay  the  piper ;  and  that’s  a 


160 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


pretty  good  rule,  Horse  Shoe,  all  the  Avorld  through.  But  come, 
here  is  supper ;  draw  up,  Mr.  Butler.” 

Mary  Musgrove  having  completed  the  arrangement  of  the  hoard 
whilst  this  conversation  was  in  progress,  the  family  now  sat  down 
to  their  repast.  It  was  observable,  during  the  meal,  that  Mary 
was  very  attentive  in  the  discharge  of  the  offices  of  the  table,  and 
especially  when  they  were  required  by  Butler.  There  was  a 
modest  and  natural  courtesy  in  her  demeanor  that  attracted  the 
notice  of  our  soldier,  and  enhanced  the  kindly  impression  which 
the  artless  girl  had  made  upon  him ;  and  it  was,  accordingly,  with 
a  feeling  composed,  in  one  degree,  of  curiosity  to  learn  more  of 
her  character,  and,  in  another,  of  that  sort  of  tenderness  which  an 
open-hearted  man  is  apt  to  entertain  towards  an  ingenuous  and 
pretty  female,  that  he  took  occasion  after  supper,  when  Mary  had 
seated  herself  on  the  threshold  of  the  porch,  to  fall  into  conversa¬ 
tion  with  her. 

“  You  do  not  live  here,  I  think  I  have  gathered,  but  are  only  on 
a  visit  ?”  was  the  remark  addressed  to  the  maiden. 

“  No,  SH ;  it  is  thirty  good  long  miles  by  the  shortest  road,  from 
this  to  my  father’s  house.  Mistress  Adair  is  my  mother’s  sister, 
and  that  makes  her  my  aunt,  you  know,  su’.” 

“  And  your  father’s  name  ?” 

“  Allen  Musgrove.  He  has  a  mill,  sir,  on  the  Ennoree.” 

“  You  are  the  miller’s  daughter,  then.  Well,  that’s  a  pretty 
title.  I  suppose  they  call  you  so  ?” 

“  The  men  sometimes  call  me,”  replied  Mary,  rising  to  her  feet, 
and  leaning  carelessly  against  one  of  the  upright  timbers  that  sup¬ 
ported  the  porch,  “  the  miller’s  pretty  daughter,  but  the  women 
call  me  plain  Mary  Musgrove.” 

“  Faith,  my  dear,  the  men  come  nearer  to  the  truth  than  the 
women.” 

“  They  say  not,”  replied  the  maiden,  “  I  have  heard,  and  some¬ 
times  I  have  read  in  good  books — at  least,  they  called  them  good 
books — that  you  mustn’t  believe  the  men.” 

“  And  why  should  you  not 

“  I  don’t  well  know  why  not,”  returned  the  girl  doubtingly ; 
“  but  I  am  young,  and  maybe  I  shall  find  it  out  by  and  by.” 

“  God  forbid,”  said  Butler,  “  that  you  should  ever  gain  that  ex- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


161 


perience !  But  there  are  many  toils  spread  for  the  feet  of  inno¬ 
cence  in  this  world,  and  it  is  well  to  have  a  discreet  eye  and  good  / 
friends.” 

“  I  am  seventeen,  sir,”  replied  Mary,  “  come  next  month  ;  and 
though  I  have  travelled  backwards  and  forwards  from  here  to 
Ennoree,  and  once  to  Camden,  which,  you  know,  sir,  is  a  good  deal 
of  this  world  to  see,  I  never  knew  anybody  that  thought  harm  of 
me.  But  I  don’t  dispute  there  are  men  to  be  afraid  of,  and  some 
that  nobody  coidd  like.  And  yet  I  think  a  good  man  can  be  told 
by  his  face.” 

“  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?” 

“  Yes.  My  father  is  a  good  man,  and  every  one  says  you  may 
see  it  in  his  looks.” 

“  I  should  like  to  know  your  father,”  said  Butler. 

“  I  am  sure  he  would  be  glad  to  know  you,  sir.” 

“  Now,  my  pretty  miller’s  daughter,  why  do  you  think  so  ?” 

“  Because  you  are  a  gentleman,”  replied  the  girl,  courtesying, 

“  for  all  your  homespun  clothes.” 

“  Ha  !  pray  how  have  you  found  that  out  ?” 

“  You  talk  differently  from  our  people,  sir.  Your  words  or  your”' 
voice,  I  can’t  rightly  tell  which,  are  softer  than  I  have  been  used  to 
hear.  And  you  don’t  look,  and  walk,  and  behave  as  if  homespun  ' 
had  been  all  you  ever  wore.” 

“  And  is  that  all  ?” 

“  You  stop  to  consider,  as  if  you  were  stud)dng  what  would, 
please  other  people  ;  and  you  do  not  step  so  heavy,  sir  ;  and  you\ 
do  not  swear ;  and  you  do  not  seem  to  like  to  give  trouble.  I  I 
can’t  think,  sir,  that  you  have  been  always  used  to  such  as  are  ' 
hereabouts.  And  then  there’s  another  reason,  sir,”  added  the 
maiden,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

“  What  is  that  ?  ”  asked  Butler,  smiling. 

“  AVhy,  sir,  when  you  stooped  down  to  pick  up  your  fork,  that 
fell  from  the  table,  I  saw  a  blue  ribbon  round  your  neck,  and  a 
beautifid  gold  picture  hanging  to  it.  None  but  gentlemen  of 
quality  cany  such  things  about  them  :  and  as  there  is  so  much 
contriving  and  bloody  doings  going  on  about  here,  I  was  sure  you 
wasn’t  what  you  seemed.” 

“  For  heaven’s  sake,  my  dear,”  exclaimed  Butler,  startled  by 


102 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


the  disclosure  of  the  maiden’s  suspicion,  wliich  was  so  naturally 
accounted  for,  “  keep  tliis  to  yourself,  and  the  time  may  come 
when  I  shall  be  able  to  reward  your  fidelity.  If  you  have  any 
good  will  towards  me,  as  I  hope  you  have,  tell  nobody  what  you 
have  seen.” 

“  Never  fear  me,  sir,”  returned  the  maid.  “  I  wouldn’t  let  on 
to  any  one  in  the  house  for  the  world.  I  am  for  General  Wash¬ 
ington  and  the  Congress,  which  is  more  than  I  think  the  people 
here  are.” 

“  Indeed  !  ”  muttered  Butler,  thoughtfully,  and  scarce  above  his 
breath.  “  What  side  does  your  father  take,  Mary  ?  ” 

“  My  father  is  an  old  man,  sir.  And  he  reads  his  Bible,  and 
every  night,  before  we  go  to  bed,  he  prays  aloud  before  us  all,  I 
mean  all  that  belong  to  his  house,  for  quiet  once  more  and  peace. 
His  petition  is  that  there  may  be  an  end  of  strife,  and  that  the 
_  sword  and  spear  may  be  turned  into  the  pruning-hook  and 
ploughshare — you  know  the  words,  sir,  perhajps,  for  they  are  in 
the  good  book,  and  so  he  doesn’t  take  any  side.  But  then,  the 
English  ofiBcers  are  not  far  olF,  and  they  take  his  house  and  use  it 
as  they  please,  so  that  he  has  no  mind  of  his  own.  And  almost 
all  the  people  round  us  are  Tories,  and  we  are  afi-aid  of  om’  lives 
if  we  do  not  say  whatever  they  say.” 

“  Alas  !  that’s  the  misfortune  of  many  more  than  your  father’s 
household.  But  how  comes  it  that  you  are  a  friend  of  General 
Washington  ?  ” 

“  Oh,  sir,  I  think  he  is  our  friend  ;  and  then  he  is  a  good  man. 
And  I  have  a  better  reason  still  to  be  on  his  side,”  added  the 
maiden  tremulously,  with  her  head  averted.  < 

“  What  reason,  my  good  girl  ?  ” 

“  John  Ramsay,  sir.” 

——  “  Indeed !  a  very  cogent  reason,  I  doubt  not,  my  pretty  maid 
of  the  mill.  And  how  does  this  reason  operate  ?  ” 

“We  have  a  liking,  sir,”  she  replied  bashfully,  but  with  inno¬ 
cent  frankness  ;  “  he  is  for  Washington,  and  we  are  to  be  married 
when  the  war  is  over.” 

“  Truly,  that  is  a  most  excellent  reason  !  Who  is  John  Ram¬ 
say?” 

“  He  is  a  trooper,  sir,  and  out  with  General  Sumpter.  We 


HOUSE  SHOE  ROBINSOK. 


163 


don’t  see  Lim  often  now,  for  he  is  afraid  to  come  home,  excepting 
when  the  Tories  are  away.” 

“  These  Tories  are  very  troublesome,  Mary,”  said  Butler, 
laughing  ;  “  they  annoy  us  all,  on  our  side  of  the  question.  But 
love  John  Ramsay,  my  dear,  and  don’t  be  ashamed  of  it,  for  I’ll 
warrant  he  is  a  brave  fellow,  and  deserves  a  pretty  girl  with  a 
true  heart,  for  his  love  to  his  country.” 

“  That  he  does !  ”  replied  Mary,  “  for  his  greatest  fault  is  that 
he  ventures  too  much.  If  you  should  see  him,  sir,  I  would  like 
you  just  to  drop  him  a  hint  that  he  ought  to  take  more  care  of 
himself.  He  would  mind  it  from  you,  but  he  puts  me  off  with  a 
laugh  when  I  tell  him  so.” 

“  If  I  have  the  schooling  of  him,  he  shall  be  more  cautious,  for 
your  sake.  But  the  cm-rent  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth, 
Mary ;  remember  that.” 

“  I  must  go  into  the  house,  my  aunt  Peggy  calls  me,”  inter¬ 
rupted  the  maiden.  “  I  will  keep  the  secret,  sir,”  she  added,  as 
she  retired  fr-om  the  porch  to  the  household  service  where  her 
presence  was  demanded. 

“  Simple,  innocent,  and  confiding  girl,”  ejaculated  Butler,  as  he 
now  strolled  forth  under  the  starlit  canopy  of  night ;  “  how  are 
you '  contrasted  with  the  rough  and  savage  natures  around  you ! 

I  wear  but  a  thin  disguise,  when  this  unpractised  country  girl  is  < 
able  so  soon  to  penetrate  it.  And  this  miniature,  too !  Oh, 
Mildred  !  that  the  very  talisman  I  bear  about  me  to  guard  me 
from  evil,  should  betray  me  !  Well,  this  discovery  admonishes 
me  that  I  should  wear  that  image  nearer  to  my  heart.  There,” 
he  continued,  as  he  buttoned  his  waistcoat  across  his  breast ;  “  lie 
closer  and  more  concealed.  I  doubt  this  double-faced  woodman, 
and  almost  believe  in  the  seeming  fi-ivolous  dotings  of  the  crone 
at  his  fireside.  Now,  God  defend  us  fi-om  treachery  and  ambus¬ 
cade  !  ” 

Robinson,  at  this  moment,  being  on  his  way  to  the  stable,  was 
met  by  Butler,  who  half  whispered,  “  Good  sergeant,  keep  your 
eyes  about  you,  and,  mark  me,  do  not  omit  to  take  our  weapons 
to  our  chamber.  I  have  reasons  for  this  caution.  I  would  not 
trust  ’lese  people  too  far.” 

“  W  at  dare  not  play  us  a  trick,  major,”  replied  the  sergeant. 


164 


HOESE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


“  He  Imows  I  would  shake  the  life  out  of  his  carcase  if  I  saw  him 
take  one  step  of  a  traitor.  Besides,  in  this  here  war  time,  it’s  a  part 
of  my  discipline  to  be  always  ready  for  stolen  marches.  As  you 
say,  major,  we  will  stack  arms  where  we  sleep.  There  is  no  trust 
in  this  dubious  country  that  isn’t  something  the  surer  with  powder 
and  ball  to  back  it.” 

With  this  intimation  the  sergeant  continued  his  walk,  and 
Butler,  retiring  to  the  family  group,  seated  himself  near  the 
fire. 

Wat  Adair  and  his  crony,  Michael  Lynch,  had  each  lighted  a 
pipe,  and  were  now  in  close  conference  under  the  cover  of  their 
own  smoke,  amidst  the  combined  din  of  romping  children  and  of 
the  noisy  spinning-wheel  of  the  wife,  which  gave  fife  and  occupa¬ 
tion  to  the  apartment. 

“  How  far  do  you  expect  to  travel  to-morrow  ?  ”  asked  the  host, 
as  Butler  drew  a  chair  near  him. 

“  That  will  depend  very  much,”  replied  Butler,  “  upon  the 
advice  you  may  give  us.” 

“  You  wish  to  get  across  here  into  Georgia?”  continued  Wat. 

“  By  the  route  least  liable  to  molestation,”  added  the  major. 

“  Let  me  see,  Michael,  Grindall’s  Ford  is  the  best  point  to  make  : 
then  there’s  Christie’s,  about  three  miles  beyont.” 

“  Just  so,”  replied  Lynch  ;  “  that  will  make  about  twenty-seven 
and  three  are  thirty  miles  :  an  easy  day’s  journey.” 

“  In  that  case,”  said  Adair,  “  if  you  know  the  road — doesn’t 
Horse  Shoe  know  it,  sir  ?  ” 

“  I  rather  think  not,”  answered  Butler. 

“  Well,  it’s  a  little  tangled,  to  be  sure;  but  if  you  will  wait  in 
the  morning  until  I  look  at  my  wolf  trap,  which  is  only  a  step  off, 
I  will  go  with  you  part  of  the  way,  just  to  see  you  through  one 
or  two  cross  paths  :  after  that  all  is  clear  enough.  You  will 
have  a  long  day  before  you,  and,  with  good  horses,  not  much 
to  do.” 

-  “  Are  we  likely  to  meet  parties  on  the  u’oad  ?  ”  asked  Butler. 

“  Oh,  Lord,  sir,  no  chance  of  it,”  replied  the  woodman ;  “  eveiy- 
thing  is  drawing  so  to  a  head  down  below  at  Camden  Twixt 
Cornwallis  and  Gates,  that  we  have  hardly  anything  but  old 
women  left  to  keep  the  countiy  free  of  Indians.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


165 


“  And  how  have  you  escaped  the  levy  ?  ”  inquired  the  major. 

“  He,  he,  he !  ”  chuckled  our  host ;  “  there’s  a  trick  in  that. 
They  call  me  a  man  of  doubtful  principles,  and  neither  side  are 
willing  to  own  me,”  he  added,  with  a  tone  that  seemed  to  indicate 
a  sense  of  his  own  cleverness.  “  But,  bless  you,  sir,  if  I  chose  to 
speak  out,  there  wouldn’t  be  much  doubt  in  the  case.  Would 
there,  Michael  ?” 

“  Not  if  you  was  to  be  plain  in  declaring  your  sentiments,” 
answered  Lynch,  sedately  puffing  out  a  huge  cloud  of  smoke. 

“  Betwixt  you  and  me,  sir,”  continued  Wat,  putting  his  hand  up 
to  his  mouth,  and  winking  an  eye  at  Butler,  “  the  thing’s  clear 
enough.  But  these  are  ticklish  times,  Mr.  Butler,  and  the  wise 
man  keepeth  his  own  counsel,  as  the  Scripture  says.  You  under¬ 
stand  me,  I  dare  say.” 

“  Perhaps,  I  do,”  returned  Butler.  And  here  the  conversation 
dropped,  Wat  and  his  companion  gravely  pouring  forth  volumes 
of  tobacco-fumes  in  silence,  until  the  sergeant,  having  made  his 
visit  to  the  stable,  now  re-entered  the  room. 

“  Wat,”  said  Robinson,  “  show  us  where  we  are  to  sleep.  Mr. 
Butler,  to  my  thinking,  it’s  time  to  be  turning  in.” 

Then  throwing  his  rifle  upon  one  arm,  and  Butler’s  holsters 
over  the  other,  the  sergeant  waited  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  until 
Mary  Musgrove,  at  the  order  of  Adair,  took  a  candJLe  in  her  hand, 
and  beckoned  our  traveljers  to  follow  her  out  at  me  door.  The 
maiden  conducted  her  charge  along  the  porch  to  the  opposite  end 
of  the  cabin,  where  she  pointed  out  their  chamber.  After  bidding 
their  pretty  conductress  “  good  night,”  our  travellers  prepared 
themselves  for  that  repose  which  their  wearied  frames  did  not  long 
seek  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


SOMETHING  VERY  LIKE  A  DREAM, 

It  was  after  midniglit,  and  the  inmates  of  the  woodman’s  cabin 
had  been  some  hours  at  rest,  when  Mary  Musgrove’s  sleep  was  dis¬ 
turbed  by  strange  and  unwonted  alarms.  She  was  dreaming  of 
Arthur  Butler,  and  a  crowd  of  pleasant  visions  flitted  about  her 
pillow,  when,  suddenly,  clouds  darkened  the  world  of  her  dream, 
and  images  of  bloodshed  caused  her  to  shudder.  Horrid  shapes 
appeared  to  her,  marching  with  stealthy  pace  through  her  apart¬ 
ment,  and  a  low  and  smothered  footfall  seemed  to  strike  her  ear 
like  the  ticking  of  a  death-watch.  The  fright  awakened  her,  but 
when  she  came  to  herself  all  was  still.  Her  chamber  was  at  the 
opposite  end  of  the  cabin  from  that  where  Butler  and  Robinson 
slept,  and  it  was  separated  from  the  room  occupied  by  Lynch  only 
by  a  thin  partition  of  boards.  The  starlight  through  her  window 
fell  upon  the  floor,  just  touching,  as  it  passed,  the  chair  over  which 
Mary  had  hung  her  clothes,  and  lighting  with  a  doubtful  and 
spectral  light  the  prominent  points  of  the  pile  of  garments,  in  such 
manner  as  to  give  it  the  semblance  of  some  unearthly  thing.  Mary 
Musgrove  had  the  superstition  common  to  rustic  education,  and, 
as  her  dream  had  already  filled  her  mind  with  apprehensions,  she 
now  trembled  when  her  eye  fell  upon  what  seemed  to  her  a  visit¬ 
ant  from  another  world.  For  some  moments  she  experienced  that 
most  painful  of  all  sufferings,  the  agony  of  young  and  credulous 
minds  when  wrought  upon  by  their  horror  of  spectres  in  the  night. 
Gradually,  however,  the  truth  came  to  her  aid,  and  she  saw  the 
di’eaded  ghost  disrobed  of  his  terrors,  and  changed  into  a  familiar 
and  harmless  reality.  But  this  night-fear  was  scarcely  dissipated 
before  she  again  heard,  what  in  her  sleep  had  conjured  up  the 
train  of  disagreeable  images,  the  noise  of  footsteps  in  the  adjoining 
room.  In  another  instant  she  recognised  the  sound  of  voices  con¬ 
versing  in  a  half  whisper. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


167 


“  Michael,”  said  the  first  voice ;  “  Damn  it,  man,  will  you  never 
awake  ?  Rouse  yourself ;  it  is  time  to  be  stirring.” 

“Wat!”  exclaimed  the  second  voice,  with  a  loud  yawn,  whilst 
at  the  same  moment  the  creaking  of  the  bedstead  and  a  sullen 
sound  upon  the  floor  showed  that  the  speaker  had  risen  from  his 
couch.  “  Is  it  you  ?  I  have  hardly  gone  to  bed,  before  you  are 
here  to  rouse  me  up.  What  o’clock  is  it  ?” 

“  It  is  nearly  one,”  replied  Wat  Adair.  “And  let  me  tell  you, 
you  have  no  time  to  lose.  Hugh  Habershaw  is  good  ten  miles  off, 
and  you  must  be  back  by  day-light.” 

“  You  might  have  given  me  another  hour,  I  think,  if  it  was  only 
to  consider  over  the  right  way  of  setting  about  this  thing.  Always 
look  before  you  leap,  that’s  common  sense.” 

“  You  were  always  a  heavy-headed  devil,”  said  Adair ;  “  and 
take  as  much  spurring  as  a  spavined  horse.  What  have  you  to 
do  with  considering  ?  Isn’t  all  fixed  ?  Jog,  man,  jog.  You  have 
a  beautiful  starlight :  and  I  had  the  crop-ear  put  up  in  the 
stable  last  night,  that  no  time  might  be  lost ;  so  up,  and  saddle, 
and  away  1” 

“  Well,  you  needn’t  be  so  d — d  busy  ;  don’t  you  see  that  I  am 
getting  ready  ?” 

“  Quiet,  Mike ;  you  talk  too  loud.  Take  your  shoes  in  your 
hand,  you  can  put  them  on  when  you  get  into  the  porch.” 

“There,  give  me  my  coat,  Wat ;  and  I  think  I  should  have  no 
objection  to  a  drop  before  I  set  out.  It’s  raw  riding  of  a  morning. 
Now  tell  me  exactly  what  I  am  to  say  to  Hugh  Habershaw.” 

“  Tell  him,”  replied  Wat,  “  that  we  have  got  Horse  Shoe  Robin¬ 
son  and  Major  Butler  of  the  Continental  army,  as  snug  as  a  pair  of 
foxes  in  a  bag,  and  that  I  will  let  them  run  exactly  at  seven  ; 
and — ” 

“  Not  to  interrupt  you,  Wat,”  said  the  other,  “  let  me  ask  you  a 
question  before  you  go  on.  Suppose  this  shouldn’t  be  the  man  ? 
Are  you  sure  of  it  1  It  would  be  a  d — d  unchristian  job  to  give 
over  any  other  human  being  to  such  a  set  of  bloodhounds  as  Hugh 
Habershaw  and  his  gang.” 

“  Shaw,  Mike;  you  are  a  fool !  WTio,  in  the  name  of  all  the 
imps,  could  it  be,  but  Major  Butler !  Weren’t  we  expecting  him 
along  witli  Horse  Shoe,  and  just  at  this  time  ?” 


16S 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  It  looks  likely  enough,”  replied  Lynch.  “  So  go  on.” 

“  Tell  Hugh  to  be  ready  at  the  Dogwood  Spring,  at  the  latest, 
by  eight  o’clock.  I’ll  give  him  a  game  to  play  that  will  supple  his 
joints  for  him.  And  mind  me  Mike,  warn  the  greasy  captain  to 
have  his  whole  squad  with  him ;  for  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,  you 
know,  is  not  to  be  handled  by  boys ;  it  will  be  a  bull-fight,  or  I’m 
mistaken.” 

“  The  major  seems  to  have  a  wicked  eye  too,  Wat,”  said  Lynch. 
“  I  shouldn’t  like  much  to  be  in  his  way,  if  he  was  angry ;  these 
copperheads  are  always  in  a  coil  ready  to  strike.  But,  Wat,  how 
if  they  don’t  ride  by  the  Dogwood  Spring  ?” 

“  Leave  that  to  me  ;  I’ll  contrive  to  go  as  far  as  the  forks  of  the 
road  with  them.  And  then,  if  they  don’t  take  the  right  hand  fork, 
why,  you  may  say  it’s  for  the  want  of  my  not  knovfing  how  to  tell 
a  lie.” 

“  Now,  Wat  Adair,  I  don’t  like  to  spoil  sport,  but,  may  be,  you 
*  have  never  thought  whether  it  would  be  worth  while  just  to  take 
t’other  side,  and  tell  Horse  Shoe  the  whole  business.  Couldn’t  we, 
don’t  you  think,  get  as  much  money,  and  just  as  honestly,  by 
hoisting  colors  with  Major  Butler  ?” 

“  But  I  have  thought  of  that,  and  it  won’t  do,  for  two  reasons. 
First,  these  Continentals  are  on  the  down-hill,  and  money  is  as 
scarce  with  them  as  honesty  with  the  red-coats :  and,  second,  the 
Tories  have  got  so  much  the  upper  hand  in  the  whole  country, 
that  I  should  have  my  house  burnt  down  and  my  children  thrown 
into  the  blaze  of  it,  in  less  than  three  days,  if  I  was  to  let  these 
fellows  slip  through  my  fingers.” 

“  Well,  I  never  knew,”  said  Mike  Lynch,  “  any  piece  of  villany 
that  hadn’t  some  good  reasons  to  stand  by  it,  and  that’s  what 
makes  it  agreeable  to  my  conscience  to  take  a  hand.” 

“  Why,  you  off-scouring,”  replied  Wat,  “  it  is  enough  'to  make 
Old  Scratch  laugh,  to  hear  you  talk  about  conscience  !  There  ain’t 
no  such  a  thing  going  in  these  days.  So  be  off ;  I’U  look  for  you 
at  daylight.” 

“I’ll  ride,  Wat,  as  if  the  devil  was  on  my  Crupper;  so  good 
bye!” 

The  cessation  of  the  voices,  the  distant  tramp  of  Lynch  when  he 
had  left  the  cabin,  and  the  cautious  retreat  of  Wat  Adair  to  his 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


169 


chamber,  told  to  Mary  that  the  affair  was  settled,  and  the  plan  of 
treachery  in  full  career  towards  its  consummation. 

The  dialogue  that  had  just  passed  in  the  hearing  of  the  maiden, 
disclosed  a  plot  that  deeply  agitated  and  distressed  her.  What 
did  it  become  her  to  do,  was  the  first  question  that  presented  itself 
to  her  reflection,  as  soon  as  she  was  sufficiently  self-possessed  to 
turn  her  thoughts  upon  herself.  AVas  it  in  her  power  to  avert 
the  impending  disaster  which  threatened  the  lives,  perhaps,  of  those 
who  had  sought  the  hospitality  of  her  kinsman  ?  Perplexed,  dis¬ 
mayed,  and  uncertain  how  to  act,  she  had  recourse  to  an  expedient 
natural  to  her  education,  and  such  as  would  appear  most  obvious 
to  a  feeble  and  guileless  female  :  it  was  to  the  simple  and  faith- 
inspired  expedient  of  prayer.  And  now,  in  artless  but  sincere  lan¬ 
guage,  having  first  risen  up  in  her  bed,  and  bent,  her  body  across 
her  pillow,  in  the  attitude  of  supplication,  she  fervently  implored 
the  support  of  Heaven  in  her  present  strait,  and  besought  wis¬ 
dom  and  strength  to  conceive  and  to  do  that  which  was  needful  for 
the  security  of  the  individuals  whose  peace  was  threatened  by  this 
conspiracy. 

“  I  will  arise,”  she  said,  as  she  finished  her  short  and  earnest 
prayer,  “  with  the  first  light  of  the  dawn,  and  wait  the  coming  of 
the  strangers  from  their  chamber,  and  I  will  then  be  the  first  to 
tell  them  of  the  snare  that  is  prepared  for  them.”  With  this 
resolve  she  endeavored  to  compose  herself  to  rest,  but  sleep  fled  her 
eyelids,  and  her  anxious  thoughts  dwelt  upon  and  even  magnified 
the  threatened  perils*.  It  might  be  too  late,  she  reflected,  to  wait 
for  the  dawn  of  day ;  Adair  might  be  before  her  at  the  door  of  the 
guests,  and  his  constant  presence  might  take  from  her  all  hope  of 
being  able  to  communicate  the  important  secret  to  them  ;  it  was 
undoubtedly  her  surest  course  to  take  advantage  of  the  stillness  of 
the  night,  whilst  the  household  were  wrapt  in  sleep,  and  apprise 
the  strangers  of  their  danger.  But  then,  how  was  she  to  make  her 
way  to  theii'  apartment,  and  arouse  them,  at  this  hour,  from  their 
slumbers  ?  To  what  suspicions  might  the  attempt  expose  her,  even 
from  Arthur  Butlei-  himself?  And,  more  particularly,  what  would 
John  Ramsay  think  of  it,  if  the  story  should  be  afterwards  told  to 
her  disadvantage  ? 

This  last  was  an  interrogatory  which  Mary  Musgrove  was  often 

8 


170 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


found  putting  to  herself,  in  -winding  up  a  self-communion.  On 
the  present  occasion  this  appeal  to  the  opinion  of  John  Eamsay 
had  the  opposite  effect  from  that  which  might  have  been  expected 
from  it.  It  suggested  new  lights  to  her  mind,  and  turned  her 
thoughts  into  another  current,  and  brought  that  resolution  to  her 
aid  which  her  prayer  was  intended  to  invoke.  What  would  John 
Ramsay  think — he,  the  friend  of  liberty,  and  of  Washington,  the 
compatriot  of  Butler  and  Robinson,  now  toiling  with  them  in  the 
same  cause !  What  would  he  think,  if  she,  his  own  Mary  (and  the 
maiden  rested  a  moment  on  this  phrase),  did  not  do  everything  in 
her  power  to  save  these  soldiers  of  independence  from  the  blow 
which  treachery  was  now  aiming  at  them?  “John  would  have 
good  right  to  be  angry  with  me,”  she  breathed  out  in  a  voice  that 
even  startled  heiself,  “  if  I  did  not  give  them  full  warning  of  what 
I  have  heard.  This  I  am  sure  of,  he  will  believe  my  story  what¬ 
ever  others  may  say.” 

Innocence  and  purity  of  mind  are  both  sword  and  shield  in  this 
world,  and  no  less  inspire  confidence  to  defy  the  malice  and 
uncharitableness  of  enemies  than  they  strengthen  the  arm  to  do 
what  is  right.  Mary,  therefore,  resolved  to  forego  all  maidenly 
scruples  and  bravely  to  perform  her  duty,  come  what  might ;  and 
ha-ving  settled  upon  this  conclusion  she  impatiently  awaited  the 
moment  when  she  might  venture  forth  upon  her  office  of  humanity. 
In  this  situation  it  was  not  long  before  she  heard  the  distant  footfall 
of  a  horse’s  gallop  along  the  road,  indicating  to  her  the  departure 
of  Michael  Lynch  upon  his  traitorous  embassy. 

The  time  seemed  to  be  propitious,  so  Mary  arose  and  dressed 
herself.  Then  tripping  stealthily  to  the  door  that  opened  upon  the 
porch,  she  undid  the  bolt.  A  loud  and  prolonged  creak,  fi’om  the 
wooden  hinges,  caused  her  to  shake  from  head  to  foot.  She 
listened  for  a  moment,  and,  finding  that  no  one  stirred,  stepped 
forth  with  the  timid  and  faltering  step  which  would  no  less  have 
marked  the  intent  of  the  burglar,  than,  as  now  it  did,  the  frightened 
motion  of  a  guardian  spirit  bent  upon  an  errand  of  good.  Midway 
along  the  porch  she  had  to  pass  the  window  of  Adair’s  apartment : 
first,  the  low  growl,  and  then  the  sudden  bark  of  the  watch-dog 
saluted  her  ear,  and  made  her  blood  run  cold.  The  maiden’s  hand, 
however,  soothed  him  into  silence';  but  the  noise  had  attracted  the 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


I7l 

notice  of  Wat  Adair,  who  grumbled  out  a  short  curse  from  within, 
which  was  distinctly  audible  to  Mary.  She  hastily  fled  to  the 
further  end  of  the  porch,  and  there  stood  cowering  close  against 
the  wall,  almost  as  mute  and  motionless  as  a  statue,  scarce  daring 
to  breathe,  and  poised,  as  in  the  act  to  run,  with  her  weight  resting 
on  one  foot,  the  other  raised  from  the  floor.  In  this  position  she 
remained  during  a  long  interval  of  fear,  until,  at  length,  convinced 
that  all  was  quiet,  she  again  ventured  forward.  The  window  of  the 
travellers’  chamber  looked  out  from  the  gable  end  of  the  dwelling, 
and  she  was  now  immediately  before  it.  One  of  the  beds  of  the 
room,  she  knew,  was  placed  beside  this  window,  and  was  occupied 
by  either  Butler  or  Robinson.  Tremblingly  and  mistrustfulljq  she 
gave  a  feeble  tap  with  her  hand  against  the  sash.  There  was  no 
answer  :  the  sleep  within  was  the  sleep  of  tired  men,  and  was  not 
to  be  broken  by  the  light  play  of  a  maiden’s  fingers.  She  now 
picked  up  a  pebble  from  the  gi’ound,  and  with  it  again  essayed  to 
wake  the  sleepers.  This,  too,  was  unsuccessful.  In  utter  hopeless¬ 
ness  of  accomplishing  her  purpose  by  other  means,  she  ventured 
upon  raising  the  sash  ;  and  having  done  so,  she  thrust  her  head 
partially  into  the  room  as  sl>e  held  up  the  window-frame  with  one 
hand,  crying  out  with  an  almost  choked  voice. 

“  Mr.  Butler !  Mr.  Butler !  For  mercv,  awake  !” 

There  was  no  other  response  but  the  deep  breathings  of  the 
sleep-subdued  inmates. 

“  Oh  !  what  shall  I  do  ?”  she  exclaimed,  as  her  heart  beat  with  a 
violent  motion.  “  I  might  as  well  call  to  the  dead.  Mr.  Galbraith 
Robinson !  Ah  me,  I  cannot  rouse  them  without  alarming  the 
whole  house  !  Major  Butler,”  she  continued,  la3’ing  a  particular 
stress  upon  this  designation  of  his  rank,  “  Oh,  good  sir 
awake !” 

“  What  do  you  want  ?”  muttered  Butler  in  a  smothered  and 
sleep-stifled  voice,  as  he  turned  himself  heavily  on  his  pillow,  like 
one  moved  bj'  a  dream. 

“Oh,  heaven,  sir,  make  no  noise!  I  am  ashamed  to  tell  you 
who  I  am,”  said  the  terrified  girl,  “  but  I  come  for  your  good— I 
have  something  to  tell  j’ou.” 

“  Away,  away !”  cried  Butler,  speaking  in  his  sleep,  “  I  will  not 
be  disturbed  :  I  do  not  fear  you.  Begone  1” 


172 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Oh,  sir,  hear  me,”  entreated  the  maiden,  “  the  people  in  this 
house  know  you,  and  they  are  contriving  evil  against  you.” 

“  It  makes  no  difference,”  muttered  the  only  half-awakened 
soldier.  “  I  will  ride  where  it  suits  me,  if  the  Tories  were  as  thick 
as  the  leaves  of  the  trees.” 

“  There  are  people  gathering  to  do  you  harm  to-morrow,”  con¬ 
tinued  Mary,  not  suspecting  the  unconsciousness  of  the  person  to 
\vhom  she  addressed  herself,  “  and  I  only  come  with  a  word  of 
warning  to  you.  Do  not  ride  by  the  Dogwood  Spring  to-morrow, 
nor  take  the  right  hand  road  at  the  first  forks  ;  there  are  wicked 
men  upon  that  road.  Have  your  eye,”  she  whispered,  “  upon  my 
uncle  Walter.  Ride  fast  and  far,  before  you  stop ;  and  pray,  sir,  as 
you  think  fairly  of  me — Mary  Musgrove,  sir, — the  daughter 
of  Allen  Musgrove,  the  miller — oh,  do  not  tell  my  name. 
If  you  knew  John  Ramsay,  sir,  I  am  certain  you  would  believe 
me.” 

The  watch-dog  had  growled  once  or  twice  during  the  period 
while  Mary  spoke,  and  at  this  moment  the  door  of  the  principal 
room  of  the  cabin  was  heard  to  move  slightly  ajar,  and  the  voice 
of  Adair,  in  a  whisper,  reached  the  girl’s  ear. 

“  Hist,  Michael !  In  the  devil’s  name  what  brought  you  back  ? 
Why  do  you  loiter,  when  time  is  so  precious  ?” 

A  long,  heavy,  and  inarticulate  exclamation,  such  as  belongs  to 
disturbed  sleep,  escaped  from  Butler. 

“  Father  of  heaven,  I  shall  let  the  window  fall  with  fright !” 
inwardly  ejaculated  Mary,  as  she  still  occupied  her  uneasy  station. 
“  Hush,  it  is  the  voice  of  my  uncle.” 

There  was  a  painful  pause. 

A  heavy  rush  of  wind  agitated  the  trees,  and  sweeping  along  the 
porch  caused  some  horse-gear  that  was  suspended  against  the  wall 
to  vibrate  with  a  rustling  noise :  the  sound  pierced  Mary’s  ear  like 
the  accents  of  a  ghost,  and  her  strength  had  well  nigh  failed  her 
from  faint-heartedness. 

“  I  thought  it  was  Michael,”  said  Adair,  speaking  to  some  one 
within,  “  but  it  is  only  the  rattling  of  harness  and  the  dreaming,  of 
Drummer.  These  dogs  have  a  trick  of  whining  and  gi-owling  in 
I  their  sleep  according  to  a  way  of  their  own.  They  say  a  dog  some¬ 
times  sees  a  spirit  at  night.  But  man  or  devil  it’s  all  one  to  old 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


173 


Drummer!  Sleep  quiet,  you  superfluous,  and  have  done  with 
your  snoring !” 

With  these  words,  the  door  was  again  closed,  and  Mary,  for  the 
moment,  was  released  from  suffering. 

“  Remember,”  she  uttered  in  the  most  fear-stricken  tone,  as  she 
lowered  the  sash.  “  Be  sure  to  take  the  left  hand  road  at  the  first 
fork !” 

“  In  God’s  name,  what  is  it  ?  Where  are  you  ?”  was  the 
exclamation  heard  by  Mary  as  the  window  was  closing.  She  did 
not  halt  for  further  parley  or  explanation,  but  now  hastily  stole 
back,  like  a  frightened  bird  towards  its  thicket.  Panting  and 
breathless,  she  regained  her  chamber,  and  with  the  utmost  expedi¬ 
tion  betook  herself  again  to  bed,  where,  gratified  by  the  conscious¬ 
ness  of  having  done  a  good  action,  and  fully  trusting  that  her 
caution  would  not  be  disregarded,  she  gradually  dismissed  her 
anxiety,  and,  before  the  hour  of  dawning,  had  fallen  into  a  gentle 
though  not  altogether  unperturbed  slumber. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


HORSE  SHOE  AND  BUTLER  RESUME  THEIR  JOURNEY,  WHICH  IS 
DELATED  BY  A  SAVAGE  INCIDENT. 

Morning  broke,  and  with  the  first  day-streak  Robinson  turned 
out  of  his  bed,  leaving  Butler  so  thoroughly  bound  in  the  spell  of 
sleep,  that  he  was  not  even  moved  by  the  loud  and  heavy  tramp 
of  the  sergeant,  as  that  weighty  personage  donned  his  clothes. 
Horse  Shoe’s  first  habit  in  the  morning  was  to  look  after  Captain 
Peter,  and  he  accordingly  directed  his  steps  towards  the  rude  shed 
which  served  as  a  stable,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Here,  to  his  sur¬ 
prise,  he  discovered  that  the  fence-rails  which,  the  night  before, 
had  been  set  up  as  a  barrier  across  the  vacant  doorway,  had  been 
let  down,  and  that  no  horses  were  to  be  seen  about  the  premises. 

“  What  hocus-pocus  has  been  here  ?”  said  he  to  himself,  as  he 
gazed  upon  the  deserted  stable.  “Have  these  rummag-ing  and 
thieving  Tories  been  out  maraudering  in  the  night  ?  or  is  it  only 
one  of  Captain  Peter’s  old-sodger  tricks,  letting  down  bars  and 
leading  the  young  geldings  into  mischief  ?  That  beast  can  snuff 
the  scent  of  a  corn  field  or  a  pasture  ground  as  far  as  a  crow  smells 
gunpowder.  He’d  dislocate  and  corruptify  any  innocent  stable  of 
horses  in  Carolina  !” 

In  doubt  to  which  of  these  causes  to  assign  this  disappearance 
of  their  cavalry,  the  sergeant  ascended  the  hill  hard-by,  and  directed 
his  eye  over  the  neighboring  fields,  hoping  to  discover  the  desert¬ 
ers  in  some  of  the  adjacent  pastures.  But  he  could  get  no  sight 
of  them.  He  then  returned  to  the  stable  and  fell  to  examining  the 
ground  about  the  door,  in  order  to  learn  something  of  the  depart¬ 
ure  of  the  animals  by  their  tracks.  These  were  sufficiently  distinct 
to  convince  him  that  Captain  Peter,  whose  shoes  had  a  peculiar 
mark  well  known  to  the  sergeant,  had  eloped  during  the  night,  in 
company  with  the  major’s  gelding  and  two  others,  these  being  all, 


HORSE  SHOE  RODIN SON. 


*  175 


as  Horse  Shoe  had  observed,  that  were  in  the  stable  at  the  time  he 
Had  retired  to  bed.  He  forthwith  followed  the  foot-prints  which  led 
him  into  the  high  road,  and  thence  along  it  westward  for  about 
two  hundred  paces,  where  a  set  of  field  bars,  now  thrown  down, 
alforded  entrance  into  the  cornfield.  At  this  point  the  sergeant 
traced  the  deviation  of  three  of  the  horses  into  the  field,  whilst  the 
fourth,  it  was  evident,  had  continued  upon  the  road. 

The  conclusion  which  Galbraith  drew  from  this  phenomenon 
was  expressed  by  a  wise  shake  of  the  head  and  a  profound  fit  of 
abstraction.  He  took  his  seat  upon  a  projecting  rail  at  the  angle 
of  the  fence,  and  began  to  sum  up  conjectures  in  the  following 
phrase ; 

“  The  horse  that  travelled  along  that  road,  never  travelled  of  his 
own  free  will :  that’s  as  clear  as  preaching.  Well,  he  wa’n’t  rode 
by  Wat  nor  by  Mike  Lynch,  or  else  they  are  arlier  men  than  I 
take  them  to  be  :  but  still.  I’ll  take  a  book  oath  that  creetur  went 
with  a  bridle  across  his  head,  and  a  pair  o’  legs  astride  his  back. 
And  whoever  held  that  bridle  in  his  hand,  did  it  for  no  good  ! 
Scampering  here  and  scampering  there,  and  scouring  woods  in  the 
night  too,  when  the  country  is  as  full  of  Tories  as  a  beggar’s  coat 

Avith - ,  it’s  a  dogmatical  bad  sign,  take  it  which  way  you  will. 

Them  three  horses  had  the  majoritj’’,  and  it  is  the  nature  of  these 
beasts  always  to  follow  the  majority  :  that’s  an  observation  I  have 
made  ;  and,  in  particular,  if  there’s  a  cornfield,  or  an  oatpatch,  or  a 
piece  of  fresh  pasture  to  be  got  into,  every  individual  horse  is  unani¬ 
mous  on  the  subject.” 

Whilst  the  sergeant  was  engrossed  with  these  reflections,  “  he 
was  ware,”as  the  old  ballads  have  it,  of  a  man  trudging  past 
him  along  the  road.  This  was  no  other  than  Wat  Adair,  who  was 
striding  forward  with  a  long  and  rapid  step,  .and  with  all  the 
appearance  of  one  intent  upon  some  pressing  business. 

“Halloo!  who  goes  there?  where  away  so  fast,  Wat?”  was 
Robinson’s  challenge. 

“  Horse  Shoe  1”  exclaimed  Adair,  in  a  key  that  bespoke  surprise, 
and  even  alarm, — “  Ha,  ha,  ha ! — By  the  old  woman’s  pipe,  you 
frightened  me  !  I’ll  swear,  Galbraith  Robinson,  I  heard  you  snoring 
as  I  pissed  by  your  window  three  minutes  ago.” 

“  I’ll  swear  that’s  not  the  truest  word  you  ever  spoke  in  your  life, 


/ 


176  HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

Wat;  though  true  enough  for  you,  mayhap.  Do  you  see  how 
cleverly  yon  light  has  broke  across  the  whole  sky  ?  When  I  first 
turned  out  this  morning  it  was  a  little  ribbon  of  day  :  the  burning 
of  a  block-house  at  night,  ten  miles  off,  would  have  made  a  broader 
streak.  It  was  your  own  snoring  you  heard,  Wat;  you  have  only 
forgot  under  whose  window  it  was.” 

“  What  old  witch  has  been  pinching  you.  Horse  Shoe,  that  you 
are  up  so  early  ?”  asked  Adair.  “  Get  back  to  the  house,  man,  I 
will  be  with  you  jiresently ;  I  have  my  farm  to  look  after.  I’ll  see 
you  presently.” 

“  You  seem  to  me  to  be  in  a  very  onreasonable  hurry,  Wat,  con¬ 
sidering  that  you  have  the  day  before  you.  But,  softly.  I’ll  walk 
■with  you,  if  you  have  no  unliking  to  it.” 

“  No,  no,  I’m  bus]^,  Galbraith  ;  I’m  going  to  look  after  my  traps ; 
I’d  rather  you’d  go  back  to  the  house  and  hurry  breakfast.  Go ! 
You  would  only  get  scratched  with  briers  if  you  followed  me.” 

“Ha,  ha,  ha!  AYat!  Briers,  did  you  say?  Look  here,  man, 
do  you  see  them  there  legs  ?  Do  they  look  as  if  they  couldn’t 
laugh  at  yourn  in  any  sort  of  scrambling  I  had  a  mind  to  set  them 
to  ?  Tut,  I’ll  go  with  you  just  to  larn  you  the  march  drill.” 

“  Then  I’ll  not  budge  a  foot  after  the  traps.” 

“  You  are  crusty,  AVat  Adair  ;  what’s  the  matter  with  you  ?” 

“  Is  Major  Butler  up  yet  ?”  asked  the  woodman  thoughtfully. 

“  Who  do  you  say  ?  Major  Butler.” 

“  Major  P'  cried  Adair,  with  affected  surprise. 

“  Yes,  you  called  him  Major  Butler  ?” 

“  I  had  some  dream,  I  think,  about  him  :  or,  didn’t  you  call  him 
so  yourself.  Horse  Shoe  ?” 

“  Most  undoubtedly,  I  did  not,”  replied  Robinson  seriously. 

“  Then  I  dreamt  it.  Horse  Shoe :  these  dreams  sometimes  get 
into  the  head,  like  things  we  have  been  told.  But,  Galbraith,  tell 
me  the  plain  up-and-down  truth,  what  brings  you  and  Mr.  Butler 
into  these  parts  ?  What  are  you  after  in  Georgia  ?  It  does  seem 
strange  to  find  men  that  are  wanted  below,  straggling  here  in  our 
woods  at  such  a  time  as  this.” 

“There  are  two  sorts  of  men  in  this  world,  Wat,”  said  the 
sergeant,  "with  a  smile,  “  them  that  axes  questions,  and  them  that 
won’t  answer  questions.  Now,  which,  do  you  think,  I  belong  to  ? 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


177 


Why,  to  the  last,  you  tinker!  Where  are  our  horses,  Wat?  Tell 
me  that.  Who  let  them  out  of  the  stable  ?” 

“  Perhaps  they  let  themselves  out,”  replied  Adair,  “  they  were 
not  haltered.” 

“  You  are  either  knave  or  fool,  Wat.  Come  here.  There  are 
the  tracks  of  the  beast  that  carried  the  man  up  this  road,  who  sot 
loose  all  the  horses  that  were  in  that  stable.” 

“  Mike  Lynch,  perhaps,”  said  Adair,  with  an  assumed  expression 
of  ignorance.  “  Where  can  that  fellow  have  been  so  early  ?  Oh,  I 
remember,  he  told  me  last  night  that  he  was  going  this  morning  to 
the  blacksmith’s.  He  ought  to  be  back  by  this  time.” 

“  And  you  are  here  to  larn  the  news  from  him  ?”  said  th 
sergeant,  eyeing  Adair  with  a  suspicious  scrutiny. 

“  You  have  just  hit  it,  Horse  Shoe,”  returned  Wat,  laughing. 

I  did  want  to  know  if  there  were  any  more  squads  of  troopei’s 
foraging  about  this  district ;  for  these  cursed  fellows  whip  in  upon 
a  man  and  cut  him  up  blade  and  ear,  ^vithout  so  much  as  thanks 
for  their  pillage,  and  so  I  told  Mike  to  inquire  of  the  blacksmith, 
for  he  is  more  like  to  know  than  anybody  else,  whether  there  was 
any  more  of  these  pestifarious  scrummagers  abroad.” 

“  And  your  traps,  Wat  ?” 

“  That  was  only  a  lie,  Galbraith — I  confess  it.  I  w'as  afeard  to 
make  you  uneasy  by  telling  you  what  I  w’as  after.  But  still  it 
wasn’t  a  broad,  stark,  daylight  lie  neither  ;  it  was  only  a  civil  fib, 
for  I  was  going  after  my  wolf  trap  before  I  got  my  breakfast.  But 
here  comes  Mike.” 

At  this  juncture  Lynch  was  seen  emerging  from  the  wood, 
mounted  on  a  rough,  untrimmed  pony,  which  he  was  urging  for¬ 
ward  under  repeated  blows  -with  his  stick.  The  little  animal  w’as 
covered  wnth  foam  ;  and,  from  his  travel-worn  plight,  gave  evidence 
of  having  been  taxed  to  tlie  utmost  of  his  strength  in  a  severe 
journey.  At  some  hundred  paces  distant,  the  rider  detected  the 
presence  of  Adair  and  his  companion,  and  came  to  a  sudden  halt. 
He  appeared  to  deliberate  as  if  with  a  purpose  to  escape  their 
notice ;  but  finding  that  he  was  already  observed  by  them,  he  put 
his  horse  again  in  motion,  advancing  only  at  a  slow  walk.  Adair 
hastily  quitted  Robinson,  and,  walking  forward  until  he  met  Lynch, 
turned  about  and%ccompanied  him  along  the  road,  conversing 

8* 


178 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


during  tTiis  interval  in  a  key  too  low  to  be  beard  by  the  ser¬ 
geant. 

“  Here’s  Horse  Shoe  thrusting  his  head  into  our  affairs.  Con¬ 
jure  a  lie  quickly  about  your  being  at  the  blacksmith’s  ;  I  told  him 
you  were  there  to  hear  the  news.” 

“  Aye,  aye !  I  understand.” 

“  You  saw  Hugh  ?” 

“  Yes.  The  gang  will  be  at  their  post.” 

“  Hush  !  Be  merry  ;  laugh  and  have  a  joke — Horse  Shoe  is 
very  suspicious.” 

“  You  have  ridden  the  crop-ear  like  a  stolen  horse,”  continued 
Adair,  as  soon  as  he  found  himself  within  the  sergeant’s  hearing. 
“  See  what  a  flurry  you  have  put  the  dumb  beast  in.  If  it  had 
been  your  own  nag,  Mike  Lynch,  I  warrant  you  would  have  been 
more  tedious  with  him.” 

“  The  crop-ear  is  not  worth  the  devil’s  fetching,  Wat.  He  is  as 
lazy  as  a  land-turtle,  and  too  obstinate  for  any  good-tempered 
man’s  patience.  Look  at  that  stick — I  have  split  it  into  a  broom 
on  the  beast.” 

You  look  more  like  a  man  at  the  end  of  the  day  than  at  the 
beginning:  of  it,”  said  Robinson.  “  How  far  had  you  to  ride, 
Michael  ?” 

“  Only  over  here  to  the  shop  of  Billy  Watson,  in  the  Buzzard’s 
nest,”  replied  Lynch,  “  which  isn’t  above  three  miles  at  the  farthest. 
My  saw  wanted  setting,  so  I  thought  I’d  make  an  early  job  of  it, 
but  this  beast  is  so  cursed  dull  I  have  been  good  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  since  I  left  the  smith’s.” 

“  What  news  do  you  bring  ?”  inquired  Adair. 

Oh,  none  worth  telling  again.  That  cross-grained,  contrary, 
rough-and-tumble  bear  gouger,  old  Hide-and-Seek,  went  .down 
yesterday  with  the  last  squad  of  Ferguson’s  new  draughts.” 

“  Wild  Tom  Eskridge,”  said  Wat  Adair.  “  You  knowed  him. 
Horse  Shoe,  a  superfluous  imp  of  Satan  !”  continued  the  woodman, 
laying  a  particular  accent  on  the  penultimate  of  this  favorite  ad¬ 
jective,  which  he  was  accustomed  to  use  as  expressive  of  strong 
reprobation.  So  he  is  cleared  out  at  last !  Well,  I’m  glad  on’t, 
for  he  was  the  only  fellow  in  these  hills  I  was  afeard  would  give 
you  trouble,  Galbraith.”  ^ 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“Superfluous  or  not,”  replied  tLe  sergeant,  pronouncing  the 
word  in  the  same  manner  as  the  woodman,  and  equally  ignorant 
of  its  meaning,  “  it  will  be  a  bad  day  for  Tom  Eskridge,  the  rank, 
obstropolous  Tory,  when  he  meets  me,  Wat  Adair.  I  have  reason 
to  think  that  he  tried  to  clap  some  of  Tarleton’s  dragoons  on  my 
back  over  here  at  the  Waxhaws.  There’s  hemp  growing  for  that 
scape-grace  at  this  very  time.” 

“  You  heard  of  no  red  coats  about  the  Tiger  ?”  asked  Adair. 

“  Not  one,”  replied  Lynch  ;  “  the  nearest  post  is  Cruger’s,  in 
Ninety-Six.” 

“  Then  your  w’ay,  Mr.  Robinson,  is  tolerable  for  to-day,”  added 
Adair  :  “  but  war  is  war,  and  there  is  always  some  risk  to  be  run 
when  men  are  ^larading  with  their  rifles  in  their  hands.  But  see  ! 
it  is  hard  upon  sunrise.  Let  us  go  and  give  some  directions  about 
breakfast.  I  will  send  out  some  of  the  boys  to  hunt  up  the 
horses ;  they  will  be  ready  by  the  time  we  have  had  something  to 
eat.” 

Without  further  delay,  Adair  strode  rapidly  up  the  hill  to  the 
dwelling-house,  the  sergeant  and  Lynch  following  as  soon  as  the 
latter  had  put  his  jaded  beast  in  the  stable.  By  the  time  these 
were  assembled  in  the  porch  the  family  began  to  show  signs  of 
life,  and  it  was  a  little  after  suniise  when  Butler  came  forth  ready 
for  the  prosecution  of  his  journey.  A  few  words  were  exchanged 
in  private  between  Lynch  and  the  woodman,  and  after  much  idle 
talk  and  contrived  delay,  two  lazy  and  loitering  negi’o  boys  were 
sent  off  in  quest  of  the  travellers’  horses.  Not  long  after  this  the 
animals  were  seen  coursing  from  one  part  of  the  distant  field  to 
another,  defying  all  attempts  to  get  them  into  a  corner,  or  to  com¬ 
pel  them  to  pass  through  the  place  that  had  been  opened  in  order 
to  drive  them  towards  the  stable. 

There  was  an  air  of  concern  and  silent  bewilderment  visible 
upon  Butler’s  features,  and  an  occasional  expression  of  impatience 
escaped  his  lips  as  he  watched  from  the  porch  the  ineffectual  efibrts 
of  the  negi-ocs  to  force  the  truant  steeds  towards  the  house. 

“  All  in  good  time,”  said  Adair,  answering  the  thoughts  and 
looks  of  Butler,  rather  than  his  words,  “  all  in  good  time ;  they 
must  have  their  play  out.  It  is  a  good  sign,  sir,  to  see  a  traveller’s 
horse  so  capersome  of  a  morning.  Wife,  make  haste  with  your 


180 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


preparations  ;  Horse  Shoe  and  his  friend  here  mustn’t  he  kept  back 
from  their  day’s  journey.  Stir  yourself,  Mary  Musgrove  !” 

“  Will  the  gentlemen  stay  for  breakfast  ?”  inquired  Mary,  with  a 
doubtful  look  at  Butler. 

“  Will  they  ?  To  be  sure  they  will !  Would  you  turn  off  friends 
from  the  door  with  empty  stomachs,  you  mink,  and  especially  with 
a  whole  day’s  starvation  ahead  of  them  ?”  exclaimed  the  wood¬ 
man. 

“  I  thought  they  had  far  to  ride,”  replied  the  girl,  “  and  would 
choose,  rather  than  wait,  to  take  some  cold  provision  to  eat  upon 
the  road.” 

“  Tush  !  Go  about  your  business,  niece !  The  horses  are  not 
caught  yet,  and  you  may  have  your  bacon  fried  before  they  are  at 
the  door.” 

“  It  shall  he  ready,  then,  in  a  moment,”  returned  Mary,  and  she 
betook  herself  diligently  to  her  task  of  preparation.  During  the 
interval  that  followed,  the  maiden  several  times  attempted'  to  gain 
a  moment’s  speech  with  Butler,  but  the  presence  of  Adam  or 
Lynch  as  frequently  forbade  even  a  whisper;  and  the  morning 
meal  was  at  length  set  smoking  on  the  table  without  the  arrival  of 
the  desired  opportunity.  The  repast  was  speedily  finished,  and  the 
horses  having  surrendered  to  the  emissaries  who  had  been  de¬ 
spatched  to  bring  them  in,  were  now  in  waiting  for  their  masters. 
Horse  Shoe  put  into  the  woodman’s  hand  a  small  sum  of  money 
in  requital  for  the  entertainment  afforded  to  his  comrade  and  him¬ 
self,  and  having  arranged  them  baggage  upon  the  saddles,  an¬ 
nounced  that  they  were  ready  to  set  forward  on  their  journey. 
Whilst  the  travellers  were  passing  the  farewells  customary  on  such 
occasions,  Mary  Musgi'ove,  whose  manner  during  the  whole  morn¬ 
ing  gave  many  indications  of  a  painful  secret  concern,  now  threw 
herself  in  Butler’s  way,  and  as  she  modestly  offered  him  her  hand 
at  parting,  and  heard  tbs'  little  effusion  of  gallantry  and  compli¬ 
ment  with  which  it  was  natural  for  a  well-bred  man  and  a  soldier 
to  speak  at  such  a  moment,  she  took  the  opportunity  to  whisper — 
“  The  left  hand  road  at  the  Fork — remember !”  and  instantly 
glided  away  to  another  part  of  the  house.  Butler  paused  but  for 
an  instant,  and  then  burned  forward  with  the  sergeant  to  their 
horses. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


181 


“  Wat,  you  promised  to  put  us  on  the  track  to  Grindall’s  Ford,” 
said  Horse  Shoe,  as  he  rose  into  his  seat. 

“  I  am  ready  to  go  part  of  the  way  with  you,”  replied  the  wood¬ 
man,  “  I  will  see  you  to  the  Fork,  and  after  that  you  must  make 
out  for  yourselves.  Michael,  fetch  me  my  rifle.” 

It  was  not  more  than  half  past  six  when  the  party  set  forth  on 
their  journey.-  Our  two  travellers  rode  along  at  an  easy  gait,  and 
Wat  Adair,  throwing  his  rifle  carelessly  across  his  shoulder,  stepped 
out  with  a  long  swinging  step  that  kept  him,  without  difficulty, 
abreast  of  the  hoi’semen,  as  they  pursued  their  way  over  hill  and 
dale. 

They  had  not  journeyed  half  a  mile  before  they  reached  a  point 
in  the  woods  at  which  Adair  called  a  halt. 

“  My  trap  is  but  a  little  ofi"  the  road,”  he  said,  “  and  I  must 
beg  you  to  stop  until  I  see  what  luck  I  have  this  morning.  It’s  a 
short  business  and  soon  done.  This  way.  Horse  Shoe  ;  it  is  likely 
I  may  give  you  sport  this  morning.” 

“  Our  time  is  pressing,”  said  Butler.  “  Pray  give  us  your  direc¬ 
tions  as  to  the  road,  and  we  will  leave  you.” 

“  You  would  never  find  it  in  these  woods,”  replied  Wat ;  “there 
are  two  or  three  paths  leading  through  here,  and  the  road  is  a 
blind  one  till  you  come  to  the  fork ;  the  trap  is  not  a  hundred 
yards  out  of  your  way.” 

“  Rather  than  stop  to  talk  about  it,  Wat,”  said  the  sergeant, 
“  we  will  follow  you,  so  go  on.” 

The  woodman  now  turned  into  the  thickets,  and  opening  his 
way  through  the  bushes,  in  a  few  moments  conducted  the  two 
soldiers  to  the  foot  of  a  large  gum  tree. 

“By  all  the  crows,  I  have  got  my  lady  !”  exclaimed  Wat  Adair, 
with  a  whoop  that  made  the  woods  ring.  “  The  saucy  slut !  I  have 
yoked  her.  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  !  There’s  a  picture  worth  look¬ 
ing  at.” 

“  Who  ?”  cried  Butler  ;  “  of  whom  are  you  speaking  ?” 

“  Look  for  yourself,  sir,”  replied  the  woodman.  “  There’s  the 
mischievous  devil ;  an  old  she-wolf  that  I  have  been  hunting  these 
two  years.  Oh,  ho,  madam  !  Your  servant !” 

Upon  looking  near  the  earth,  our  travellers  descried  the  object  of 
this  triumphant  burst  of  joy,  in  a  large  wolf  that  was  now  struggling 


182 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


to  release  herself  from  the  thraldom  of  her  position.  The  trap  was 
ingeniously  contrived.  It  consisted  of  a  long  opening  into  the 
hollow  trunk  of  the  tree,  beginning  about  four  feet  from  the  ground^ 
and  cut  out  with  an  axe  down  to  the  root.  An  aperture  had  been 
made  at  the  upper  end  of  the  slit  about  a  foot  wide,  and  the  wood 
had  been  hewed  away  downwards,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  render 
the  slit  gi-adually  nai-rower  as  it  approached  the  lower  extremity, 
until  near  the  earth  it  was  not  more  than  four  inches  in  width,  thus 
forming  a  wedge-shaped  loophole  into  the  hollow  body  of 
the  tree.  A  part  of  the  carcase  of  a  sheep  had  been  placed  on 
the  bottom  inside,  the  scent  of  which  had  attracted  the  wolf,  and, 
in  her  eagerness  to  possess  herself  of  this  treasure  she  had  risen  on 
her  hind  legs  high  enough  to  find  the  opening  sufficiently  wide  to 
allow  her  head  to  be  thrust  in,  whence,  slipping  downwards,  the 
slit  became  so  narrow  as  to  prevent  her  from  withdrawing  her 
jaws.  The  only  mode  of  extrication  from  this  trap  was  to  rear 
her  body  to  the  same  height  at  which  she  found  admission,  an  expe¬ 
dient  which,  it  seems,  required  more  cunning  than  this  proverbially 
cunning  animal  was  gifted  with.  She  now  stood  captive  pretty 
much  in  the  same  manner  that  oxen  are  commonly  secured  in  their 
stalls. 

For  a  few  moments  after  the  prisoner  was  first  perceived,  and 
during  the  extravagant  yelling  of  Adair  at  the  success  of  his  stra¬ 
tagem,  she  made  several  desperate  but  ineffectual  efforts  to  with¬ 
draw  her  head ;  but  as  soon  as  Butler  and  Robinson  had  dis¬ 
mounted,  and,  together  with  their  guide,  had  assembled  around 
her,  she  desisted  from  her  struggles,  and  seemed  patiently  to  resign 
herself  to  the  will  of  her  captor.  She  stood  perfectly  still  with 
that  passive  and  even  cowardly  submission  for  which,  in  such  cir¬ 
cumstances,  this  animal  is  remarkable  ;  her  hind  legs  drooped  and 
her  tail  was  thrust  between  them,  whilst  not  a  snarl  nor  an  expres¬ 
sion  of  anger  or  grief  escaped  her.  Her  characteristic  sagacity  had 
been  completely  baffled  by  the  superior  wolfish  cunning  of  her 
ensnarer. 

Wat  laughed  aloud  with  a  coarse  and  almost  fiendish  laugh,  as 
he  cried  out — 

“  I  have  cotched  the  old  thief  at  last,  in  spite  of  her  cunning  ! 
With  a  warning  to  boot.  Here  is  a  mark  I  sot  upon  her 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


183 


last  winter,”  he  added,  as  he  raised  her  tore  leg,  which  was 
deprived  of  the  foot ;  “  but  she  would  be  prowling,  the  superfluous 
devil !  It  is  in  the  nature  of  these  here  blood-suckers,  to  keep  a 
going  at  their  trade,  no  matter  how  much  they  are  watched.  But 
I  knowed  I’d  have  her  one  of  these  days.  These  varmints-  have 
always  got  to  pay,  one  day  or  another,  for  their  villanies.  W  a’n’t 
she  an  old  fool.  Horse  Shoe,  to  walk  into  this  here  gum  for  a 
piece  of  dead  mutton  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  if  she  had  had  only  the  sense 
to  rear  up,  she  might  have  had  the  laugh  on  us !  But  she  hadn’t ; 
ha,  ha,  ha !” 

“  Well,  Wat  Adair,”  said  Robinson,  “you  had  a  mischievous 
head  when  you  contrived  that  trap.” 

“  Feel  her  ribs,  Mr.  Butler,”  cried  Wat,  not  heeding  the  ser¬ 
geant  ;  “  I  know  who  packed  that  flesh  on  her.  There  isn’t  a 
lamb  in  my  flock  to-day  that  wouldn’t  grin  if  he  was  to  hear  the 
news.” 

“  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  her,  Adair  ?”  inquired 
Butler ;  “  remember  you  are  losing  time  here.” 

“  Do  with  her  !”  ejaculated  the  woodman  ;  “  that’s  soon  told :  I 
will  skin  the  devil  alive.” 

“  I  hope  not,”  exclaimed  Butler.  “  It  would  be  an  unnecessary 
cruelty.  Despatch  her  on  the  spot  with  your  rifle.” 

“  I  wouldn’t  waste  powder  and  ball  on  the  varmint,”  replied 
Adair.  “  No,  no,  the  knife,  the  knife  !” 

“  Then  cut  her  throat  and  be  done  with  it.” 

“  You  are  not  used  to  these  hellish  thieves,  sir,”  said  the  wood¬ 
man.  “  There  is  nothing  that  isn’t  too  good  for  them.  By  the 
old  sinner.  I’ll  skin  her  alive  !  That’s  the  sentence  !” 

“  Once  more,  I  pray  not,”  said  Butler  imploringly. 

“  It  is  past  praying  for,”  returned  Adair,  as  he  drew  forth  his 
knife  and  began  to  whet  it  on  a  stone.  “  She  shall  die  by  inches, 
and  be  damned  to  her!”  he  added,  as  his  eye  sparkled  with  savage 
delight.  “  Now  look  and  see  a  wolf  punished  according  to  her 
evil  doings.” 

The  woodman  stood  over  his  captive  and  laughed  heartily,  as  he 
pointed  out  to  his  companions  the  quailing  and  subdued  gestures 
of  his  victim,  indulging  in  coarse  and  vulgar  jests  whilst  he 
described  minutely  the  plan  of  torture  he  was  about  to  execute. 


184 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


When  he  had  done  with  his  ribaldry,  he  slowly  drew  the  point  of 
his  knife  down  the  baek-bone  of  the  animal,  from  the  neck  to  the 
tail,  sundering  the  skin  along  the  whole  length.  “  That’s  the 
way  to  unbutton  her  jacket,”  he  said,  laughing  louder  than  ever. 

“  For  God’s  sake,  desist !”  ejaculated  Butler.  “  For  my  sake, 
save  the  poor  animal  from  this  pain  !  I  will  pay  you  thrice  the 
value  of  the  skin.” 

“  Money  will  not  buy  her,”  said  Wat,  looking  up  for  an  instant. 
“  Besides,  the  skin  is  spoiled  by  that  gash.” 

“  Here  is  a  guinea,  if  you  will  cut  her  throat,”  said  Butler, 
“  and  destroy  her  at  once.” 

“  That  would  be  murder  outright,”  replied  Adair ;  “  I  never 
take  money  to  do  murder ;  it  goes  agin  my  conscience.  Ho,  no, 
I  will  undress  the  old  lady,  and  let  her  have  the  benefit  of  the 
cool  air  in  this  hot  weather.  And  if  she  should  take  cold,  you 
know,  and  fall  sick  and  die  of  that,  why  then,  Mr.  Butler,  you 
can  give  me  the  guinea.  That  will  save  my  conscience,”  he 
added,  with  a  grin  that  expressed  a  struggle  between  his  avarice 
and  cruelty. 

“  Come,  Galbraith,  I  will  not  stay  to  witness  the  barbarity  of  this 
savage.  Mount  your  horse,  and  let  us  take  our  chance  alone 
through  the  woods.  Fellow,  I  don’t  wish  your  further  service.” 

“  Look  there  now !”  said  Adah’ ;  “  where  were  you  born,  that 
you  are  so  mighty  nice  upon  account  of  a  blood-sucking  wolf? 
Man,  it’s  impossible  to  find  your  way  through  this  country ;  and 
you  might,  by  taking  a  wrong  road,  fall  in  with  them  that  would 
think  nothing  of  serving  you  as  I  serve  this  beast.” 

“  Wat,  curse  your  onnatural  heart,”  interposed  the  sergeant. 
“  Stob  her  at  once.  It’s  no  use,  Mr.  Butler,”  he  said,  finding  that 
Adair  did  not  heed  him,  “  we  can’t  help  ourselves.  It’s  wolf  agin 
wolf.” 

“I  knowed  you  couldn’t.  Horse  Shoe,”  cried  Wat,  with  another 
laugh.  “  So  you  may  as  well  stay  to  see  it  out.” 

Butler  had  now  walked  to  his  horse,  mounted,  and  retired  some 
distance  into  the  wood  to  avoid  further  converse  with  the  tor¬ 
mentor  of  the  ensnared  beast,  and  to  withdraw  himself  from  a 
sight  so  revolting  to  his  feelings.  In  the  meantime,  Adair  pro¬ 
ceeded  with  his  operation  with  an  alacrity  that  showed  the  innate 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


185 


cruelty  of  his  temper.  He  made  a  cross  incision  through  the  skin, 
from  the  point  of  one  shoulder  to  the  other,  the  devoted  subject 
of  his  torture  remaining,  all  the  time,  motionless  and  silent.  Hav¬ 
ing  thus  severed  the  skin  to  suit  his  purpose,  the  woodman  now, 
with  an  affectation  of  the  most  dainty  precision,  flourished  his 
knife  over  the  animal’s  back,  and  then  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

“  I  can’t  help  laughing,”  he  exclaimed,  “  to  think  what  a  fine, 
dangling,  holiday  coat  I  am  going  to  make  of  it.  I  shall  strip  her 
as  low  as  the  ribs,  and  then  the  flaps  will  hang  handsomely.  She 
will  be  considered  a  beauty  in  the  sheep-folds,  and  then  she  may 
borrow  a  coat,  you  see,  from  some  lamb ;  a  wolf  in  sheep’s  cloth¬ 
ing  is  no  uncommon  sight  in  this  world.” 

“  Wat  Adair,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  angrily,  “  I’ve  a  mind  to  take 
the  wolf’s  part  and  give  you  a  trouncing.  You  are  the  savagest 
wolf  in  sheep’s  clothing  yourself  that  it  was  ever  my  luck  to  see.” 

“You  think  so.  Horse  Shoe !”  cried  Wat,  tauntingly.  “You 
might  chance  to  miss  your  way  to-day,  so  don’t  make  a  fool  of 
yourself  !  Ill  will  would  only  take  away  from  you  a  finger-post 
— and  it  isn’t  every  road  through  this  district  that  goes  free  of  the 
Tory  rangers.” 

“  Your  own  day  will  come  yet,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  afraid  to 
provoke  the  w’oodman  too  far  on  account  of  the  dependence  of 
himself  and  his  companion  upon  Adair’s  information  in  regard  to 
the  route  of  their  journey.  “  We  have  to  give  and  take  quarter 
in  this  world.” 

“  You  see.  Horse  Shoe,”  said  Adair,  beginning  to  expostulate, 
“  I  don’t  like  these  varmints,  no  how  ;  that’s  the  reason  why. 
They  are  cruel  themselves  and  I  like  to  be  cruel  to  them.  It’s  a 
downright  pleasure  to  see  them  winch,  for,  bless  your  soul !  they 
don’t  mind  common  throat-cutting,  no  more  than  a  calf.  Now 
here’s  the  way  to  touch  their  feelings.” 

At  this  moment  he  applied  the  point  of  his  knife  to  separating 
the  hide  from  the  flesh  on  either  side  of  the  spine,  and  then,  in  his 
eagerness  to  accomplish  this  object,  he  placed  his  knife  between  his 
teeth  and  began  to  tug  at  the  skin  with  his  hands,  accompanying 
the  effort  with  muttered  expressions  of  delight  at  the  involuntary 
and  but  ill-suppressed  agonies  of  the  brute.  The  pain,  at  length, 
became  too  acute  for  the  wolf,  with  all  her  characteristic  habits  of 


186 


HORSE  SHOE  RORINSON. 


submission,  to  bear,  and,  in  a  desjjerate  struggle  that  ensued  be¬ 
tween  her  and  her  tormentor,  she  succeeded,  by  a  convulsive  leap, 
in  extricating  herself  from  her  place  of  durance.  The  energy  of 
her  effort  of  deliverance  rescued  her  from  the  woodman’s  hand, 
and  turning  short  upon  her  assailant,  she  fixed  her  fangs  deep  into 
the  fleshy  part  of  his  thigh,  where,  as  the  foam  fell  from  her  lips, 
she  held  on  firmly  as  if  determined  to  sell  her  life  dearly  for  the 
pain  she  suffered.  Adam  uttered  a  groan  from  the  infliction,  and, 
in  the  hurry  of  the  instant,  dropped  his  knife  upon  the  ground. 
He  was  thus  compelled  to  bear  the  torment  of  the  grip,  until  he 
dragged  the  still  pertinaciously-adhering  beast  a  few  paces  forward, 
where,  grasping  up  his  knife,  he  planted  it,  by  one  deeply  driven 
blow,  through  and  through  her  heart.  She  silently  fell  at  his  feet, 
without  snarl  or  bark,  releasing  her  hold  only  in  the  impotency  of 
death. 

“  Curse  her  !”  cried  Adair,  “  the  hard-hearted,  bloody-minded 
devil !  That’s  the  nature  of  the  beast — cruel  and  wicked  to  the 
last,  damn  her  !”  he  continued,  raving  with  pain,  as  he  stamped 
his  heel  upon  her  head  :  “  damn  her  in  the  wolf’s  hell  to  which 
she  has  gone  !” 

Robinson  stood  by,  unaiding,  and  not  displeased  to  see  the  sum¬ 
mary  vengeance  thus  inflicted  by  the  victim  upon  the  oppressor. 
This  calmness  provoked  the  woodman,  w’ho,  with  that  stoicism 
which  belongs  to  uncivilized  life,  seemed  determined  to  take  away 
all  pretext  for  the  sergeant’s  exultation,  by  aflecting  to  make  light 
of  the  injuiy  he  had  received. 

“  I  don’t  mind  the  scratch  of  the  cursed  creature,”  he  said,  as¬ 
suming  a  badly  counterfeited  expression  of  mirth,  “  but  I  don’t  like 
to  be  cheated  out  of  the  pleasure  of  tormenting  such  mischievous 
varmints.  It’s  well  for  her  that  she  put  me  in  a  passion,  or  she 
should  have  carried  a  festered  carcase  that  the  buzzards  might  have 
fed  upon  before  she  died.  But  come — where  is  Mr.  Butler  ?  I 
want  that  guinea.  Ho,  sir !”  he  continued,  bawling  to  Butler,  as 
he  tied  up  his  wound  with  a  strap  of  buckskin  taken  from  his 
pouch,  “  my  guinea  !  I’ve  killed  the  devil  to  please  you,  seeing 
you  would  have  it.” 

Butler  now  rode  up  to  the  spot,  and,  in  answer  to  this  appeal, 
gave  it  an  angiy  and  indignant  refusal. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


187 


“  Lead  us  on  our  way,  sir,”  lie  added.  “  We  have  lost  too  much 
time  already  with  your  brutal  delay.  Lead  on,  sir !” 

“  You  will  get  soon  enough  to  your  journey’s  end,”  replied 
Adair  with  a  smile,  and  then  sullenly  took  up  his  rifle  and  led  the 
way  through  the  forest. 

A  full  half  hour  or  more  was  lost  by  the  incident  at  the  trap, 
and  Butler’s  impatience  and  displeasure  continued  ;o  be  manifested 
by  the  manner  with  which  he  urged  the  woodmin  forward  upon 
their  journey.  After  regaining  the  road,  and  trav3rsing  a  piece  of 
intricate  and  tangled  woodland,  by  a  bridle-path  into  which  their 
guide  had  conducted  them,  they  soon  reached  a  Iroader  and  more 
beaten  highway,  along  which^  they  rode  scarce  s  mile  before  they 
arrived  at  the  Fork. 

“  I  have  seen  you  safe  as  far  as  I  promised,”  said  the  woodman, 
“and  you  must  now  shift  for  yourselves.  You  tike  the  right  hand 
road  ;  about  ten  miles  further  you  will  come  :o  another  prong, 
there  strike  to  the  left,  and  if  you  have  luck  you  will  get  to  the 
ford  before  sundown.  Three  miles  further  is  Clristie’s.  Good  bye 
t’  ye  !  And  Horse  Shoe,  if  you  should  come  across  another  wolf 
stuck  in  a  tree,  skin  her,  d’  ye  hear  ?  Ha !  ha!  ha  1  Good  bye  1” 

“  Ride  on  1”  said  Butler  to  the  sergeant,  wh)  avas  about  making 
some  reply  to  Adair ;  “  ride  on  I  Don’t  heel  or  answer  that  fel¬ 
low,  but  take  the  road  he  directs.  He  is  a  least  and  scoundrel. 
Faster,  good  sergeant,  faster  1” 

As  he  spoke  he  set  his  horse  to  a  gallop.  Robinson  followed  at 
equal  speed,  the  woodman  standing  still  until  the  travellers  disap¬ 
peared  from  his  view  behind  the  thick  foliage  that  overhung  their 
path.  Having  seen  them  thus  secure  in  his  toil,  the  treacherous 
guide  turned  upon  his  heel,  shouldered  his  rifle,  and  limped  back 
to  his  dwelling. 

“  I  have  a  strange  misgiving  of  that  rutBan,  sergeant,”  said 
Butler,  after  they  had  proceeded  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  “  My 
mind  is  perplexed  with  some  unpleasant  doubts.  What  is  your 
opinion  of  him  ?” 

“  He  plays  on  both  sides,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  “  and  knows 
more  of  you  than  by  rights  he  ought.  He  spoke  consarning  of 
you,  this  morning,  as  Major  Butler.  It  came  out  of  his  mouth 
onawares.” 


’{ 

At 


188 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Ha  !  Is  toy  name  on  any  part  of  my  baggage  or  dress  ?” 

“  Not  that  I  know  of,”  replied  the  sergeant ;  “  and  if  it  was, 
"Wat  can’t  read.” 

“  Were  you  interrupted  in  your  sleep  last  night,  Galbraith  ?  Did 
you  hear  noises  in  our  room  ?” 

“  Nothing,  k^ajor,  louder  nor  the  gnawing  of  a  mouse  at  the 
foot  of  the  plank  partition.  Did  you  see  a  spirit  that  you  look  so 
solemn  ?” 

“I  did,  serge int!”  said  Butler,  with  great  earnestness  of  man¬ 
ner.  “  I  had  a  di-eam  that  had  something  more  than  natural  in  it.” 

“You  amaze  rae.  Major !  If  you  saw  anything,  why  didn’t  you 
awake  me  ?”  \ 

“  I  hadn’t  time|before  it  was  gone,  and  then  it  was  too  late.  I 
dreamed,  GalhraitV,  that  somehow — for  my  dream  didn’t  explain 
how  she  came  in— !-Mary  Musgrove,  the  young  girl  we  saw - ” 

“  Ha  !  ha  !  hat  Major,  that  young  girl  ’s.oversot  you  !  Was 
that  the  sperit  ?”  1 

“  Peace,  Galbraitt,  I  am  in  earnest ;  listen  to  me.  I  dreamt  Mary 
Musgrove  came  intb  our  room  and  warned  us  that  our  lives  were 
in  danger  ;  how,  I  irget,  or  perhaps  she  did  not  tell,  but  she  spoke 
of  our  being  waylaid,  and,  I  think,  she  advised  that  at  this  very 
fork  of  the  road  we  nave  just  passed,  we  should  take  the  left  hand 
— the  right,  accordiry  to  my  dream,  .she  said,  led  to  some  spring.” 

“  Perhaps  the  Dogwood,  Major,”  said  Robinson,  laughing ;  “there 
is  such  a  place,  somei^here  in  these  parts.” 

“  The  Dogwood  !  by  my  life,”  exclaimed  Butler ;  “  she  called  it 
the  Dogwood  spring.” 

“  That’s  very  strange,”  said  Robinson  gravely ;  “  that’s  very 
strange,  unless  you  have  hearn  some  one  talk  about  the  spring  be¬ 
fore  you  went  to  bed  last  night.  For,  as  sure  as  you  are  a  gentle¬ 
man,  there  is  such  a  spring  not  far  off,  although  I  don’t  know  ex¬ 
actly  where.” 

“  And  what  perplexes  me,”  continued  Butler,  “  is  that,  this  morn¬ 
ing,  almost  in  the  very  words  of  my  dream,  Mary  Musgrove  cau¬ 
tioned  me,  in  a  whisper,  to  take  the  left  road  at  the  fork.  How  is 
she  connected  with  my  dream  ?  Or  could  it  have  been  a  reality, 
and  was  it  the  girl  herself  who  spoke  ?  I  have  no  recollection  of 
such  a  word  from  her  before  I  retired  to  bed.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


189 


“  I  have  hearn  of  these  sort  of  things  before,  major,  and  never 
could  make  them  out.  For  my  share,  I  believe  in  dreams.  There 
is  something  wrong  here,”  continued  the  sergeant,  after  pondering 
over  the  matter  for  a  few  moments,  and  shaking  his  head,  “  there 
is  something  wrong  here.  Major  Butler,  as  sure  as  you  are  born.  I 
wasn’t  idle  in  making  my  own  observations ;  first,  I  didn’t  like  the 
crossness  of  Wat’s  wife  last  night ;  then,  the  granny  there,  she 
raved  more  like  an  old  witch,  with  something  wicked  in  her  that 
wouldn’t  let  her  be  still,  than  like  your  decent  old  bodies  when 
they  get  childish.  What  did  she  mean  by  her  palaver  about 
golden  guineas  in  Wat’s  pocket,  and  the  English  officer  ?  Such 
notions  don’t  come  naturally  into  the  head,  without  something  to 
go  upon.  And,  moreover,  when  I  turned  out  this  morning,  before 
it  was  cleverly  day,  who  do  you  think  I  saw  ?” 

“  Indeed  I  cannot  guess.” 

“  First,  Wat  walking  up  the  road  with  a  face  like  a  man  that 
had  sot  a  house  on  fire ;  and  when  I  stopped  him  to  ax  what  he 
was  after,  down  comes  Mike  Lynch — that  peevish  bull-dog — from 
the  woods,  on  a  little  knot  of  a  pony,  pretty  nigh  at  full  speed,  and 
covered  wdth  lather ;  and  there  was  a  sort  of  colloguing  together, 
and  then  a  story  made  up  about  Mike’s  being  at  Billy  Watson’s, 
the  blacksmith’s.  It  didn’t  tell  well,  major,  and  it  sot  me  to  suspi¬ 
cions.  The  gray  of  the  morning  is  not  the  time  for  blacksmith’s 
work ;  there’s  the  fire  to  make  up,  and  what  not.  Besides,  it  don’t 
belong  to  the  trade,  as  I  know,  here  in  the  country,  to  be  at  work 
so  arly.  I  said  nothing ;  but  I  made  a  sort  of  reckoning  in  my 
own  mind  that  they  looked  like  a  couple  of  desarters  trying  to  sham 
a  sentry.  Then  again,  there  was  our  horses  turned  loose.  There  is 
something  in  these  signs,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  Major  Butler !” 

“  That  fellow  has  designs  against  us,  Galbraith,”  said  Butler, 
musing,  and  paying  but  little  attention  to  the  surmises  of  the 
sergeant,  “  I  can  hardly  think  it  was  a  dream.  It  may  have  been 
Mary  Musgrove  herself,  but  how  she  got  there  is  past  my  con¬ 
jecture.  I  saw  nothing,  I  only  heard  the  warning.  And  I  would 
be  sworn  she  addressed  me  as  Major  Butler.  You  say  Wat  Adair 
gave  me  the  same  title  ?” 

“  As  I  am  a  living  man,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  “  he  wanted 
to  deny  it ;  and  then  he  pretended  it  was  a  fancy  of  his  own.” 


190 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  It  is  very  strange,  and  looks  badly,”  said  Butler, 

“  Nevei’ mind,  let  the  worst  come  to  the  worst,  we  have  arms 
and  legs  both,”  returned  the  sergeant.” 

“I  will  take  the  hint  for  good  or  for  ill,”  said  the  major.  “  Ser¬ 
geant,  strike  across  into  the  left  hand  road ;  in  this  I  will  move  no 
farther,” 

“  That’s  as  wise  a  thing  as  we  can  do,”  replied  Robinson.  “  If 
you  have  doubts  of  a  man,  seem  to  trust  him,  but  take  care  not  to 
follow  his  advice.  There  is  another  hint  I  will  give  you,  let  us 
examine  our  fire-arms  to  see  that  we  are  ready  for  a  battle.” 

Butler  concurring  in  this  precaution,  the  sergeant  dismounted, 
and  having  primed  his  rifle  afresh,  attempted-  to  fire  it  into  the  air, 
but  it  merely  flashed,  without  going  off.  Upon  a  second  trial  the 
result  was  the  same.  This  induced  a  further  examination,  which 
disclosed  the  fact  that  the  load  which  had  been  put  in  the  day 
previous  had  been  discharged,  and  a  bullet  was  now  driven  home 
in  the  place  of  the  powder.  It  was  obvious  that  this  was  designed. 
The  machination  of  an  enemy  became  more  apparent  when,  upon 
an  investigation  into  the  condition  of  Butler’s  pistols,  they  were 
also  found  incapable  of  being  used. 

“  This  is  some  of  Michael  Lynch’s  doings  whilst  we  were  eating 
our  breakfast,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  “  and  it  is  fiat  proof  of  treason  in 
our  camp.  I  should  like  to  go  back  if  it  was  only  for  the  satisfac¬ 
tion  of  blowing  out  Wat’s  brains.  But  there  is  no  use  in  argufy¬ 
ing  about  it.  We  must  set  things  to  rights,  and  move  on  with  a 
good  look-out  ahead.” 

With  the  utmost  apparent  indifi'erence  to  the  dangers  that  beset 
them,  the  sergeant  now  applied  himself  to  the  care  of  restoring  his 
rifle  to  a  serviceable  condition.  With  the  aid  of  a  small  tool  which 
he  carried  for  such  a  use,  he  opened  the  breach  and  removed  the 
ball ;  Butler’s  pistols  were  likewise  put  in  order,  and  our  travellers, 
being  thus  restored  to  an  attitude  of  defence,  turned  their  horses’ 
heads  into  the  thicket  upon  their  left,  and  proceeded  across  the 
space  that  filled  up  the  angle  made  by  the  two  branches  of  the 
road ;  and,  having  gained  that  branch  which  they  sought,  they 
pressed  forward  diligently  upon  their  journey. 

The  path  they  had  to  travel  was  lonely  and  rugged,  and  it  was 
but  once  or  twice,  during  the  day,  that  they  met  a  casual  wayfarer 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


191 


«  traversing  the  same  wild.  From  such  a  source,  however,  they 
were  informed  that  they  were  on  the  most  direct  road  to  Grindall’s 
ford,  and  that  the  route  they  had  abandoned  would  have  con¬ 
ducted  them  to  the  Dogwood  spring,  a  point  much  out  of  their 
proper  course,  and  from  which  the  ford  might  only  have  been 
reached  by  a  difScult  and  tortuous  by-way. 

These  disclosures  opened  the  eyes  of  Butler  and  his  companion 
to  the  imminent  perils  that  encompassed  them,  and  prompted  them 
to  the  exercise  of  the  strictest  vigilance.  Like  discreet  and  trusty 
soldiers,  they  pursued  their  way  with  the  most  unwavering 
courage,  confident  that  the  difficulty  of  retreat  was  fully  equal  to 
that  of  the  advance. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


TORT  TROOPERS,  A  DARK  ROAD  AND  A  FRAY. 

“  By  the  whiskers  of  the  Grand  Turk,  I  have  got  the  four  points 
on  you,  bully  Buff!  High,  low,  jack  and  the  game  !”  exclaimed 
Peppercorn. 

“  You  have  luck  enough  to  worry  out  the  nine  lives  of  a  cat. 
That’s  an  end  to  Backbiter,  the  best  horse  ’twixt  Pedee  and  the 
Savannah.  So,  blast  me,  if  I  play  any  more  vsdth  you !  There, 
send  the  cards  to  hell !”  roared  out  Hugh  Habershaw,  rising  and 
throwing  the  pack  into  the  fire. 

It  was  just  at  the  closing  in  of  night,  when  a  party  of  ruffianly- 
looking  men  were  assembled  beneath  a  spreading  chestnut,  that 
threw  forth  its  aged  arms  over  a  small  gravelly  hillock,  in  the 
depths  of  the  forest  that  skirted  the  northern  bank  of  the  Pacolet, 
within  a  short  distance  of  Grindall’s  ford.  The  spot  had  all  the 
qualities  of  a  secret  fastness.  It  was  guarded  on  one  side  by  the 
small  river,  and  on  the  other  by  a  comjjlicated  screen  of  underwood, 
consisting  principally  of  those  luxuriantly  plaited  vines  which  give 
so  distinct  a  character  to  the  southern  woodland.  The  shrubbery, 
immediately  along  the  bank  of  the  river,  was  sufficiently  open  to 
enable  a  horseman  to  ride  through  it  down  to  the  road  which,  at 
about  two  hundred  paces  off,  led  into  the  ford. 

The  group  who  now  occupied  this  spot  consisted  of  some  ten  or 
twelve  men  under  the  command  of  Hugh  Habershaw.  Their 
appearance  was  half  rustic  and  half  military;  some  efforts  at 
soldierly  costume  were  visible  in  the  decoration  of  an  occasional 
buck-'tail  set  in  the  caps  of  several  of  the  party,  and,  here  and  there, 
a  piece  of  yellow  cloth  forming  a  band  for  the  hat.  Some  wore 
long  and  ungainly  deer-skin  pantaloons  and  moccasins  of  the  same 
material ;  and  two  or  three  were  indued  with  coats  of  coarse  home- 
spun,  awkwardly  garnished  with  the  trimmings  of  a  British 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


193 


uniform.  All  were  armed,  but  in  the  same  iiTegular  fashion. 
Tliere  were  rifles  to  be  seen  stacked  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree  : 
most  of  the  men  wore  swords,  which  were  of  different  lengths  and 
sizes;  and  some  of  the  gang  had  a  horseman’s  pistol  bestowed  con¬ 
spicuously  about  their  pemons.  Their  horses  were  attached  to  the^ 
drooping  ends  of  the  boughs  of  the  several  trees  that  hemmed  in 
the  circle,  and  were  ready  for  service  at  the  first  call.  A  small  fire 
of  brushwood  had  been  kindled  near  the  foot  of  the  chestnut,  and 
its  blaze  was  sufficiently  str(fng  to  throw  a  bright  glare  over  the 
motley  and  ill-looking  crew  who  w'ere  assembled  near  it.  They 
might  well  have  been  taken  for  a  bivouac  of  banditti  of  the  most 
undisciplined  and  savage  class.  A  small  party  were  broiling 
venison  at  the  fire ;  the  greater  number,  howevei',  were  stretched 
out  upon  the  ground  in  idleness,  waiting  for  some  expected 
summons  to  action.  The  two  I  have  first  noticed,  were  seated  on 
the  butt-end  of  a  fallen  trunk,  immediately  within  the  light  of  the 
fire,  and  were  engaged  with  a  pack  of  dirty  cards,  at  the  then' 
popular  game  of  “  all  fours.” 

These  two  personages  were  altogether  different  in  exterior  from 
each  other.  The  first  of  them,  known  only  by  the  sobriquet  of 
Peppercorn,  was  a  tall,  well-proportioned  and  active  man,  neatly 
dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  British  dragoon.  His  countenance 
indicated  more  intelligence  than  belonged  to  his  companions,  and 
liis  manners  had  the  flexible,  bold,  and  careless  port  that  gene¬ 
rally  distinguishes  a  man  who  has  served  much  in  the  army, 
and  become  familiar  with  the  varieties  of  character  afforded  by 
such  a  career.  The  second  was  Hugh  Habershaw,  the  captain  of 
the  gang.  He  was  a  bluff,  red-visaged,  corpulent  man,  with  a  face 
of  gross,  uTimitigated  sensuality.  A  pale  blood-shot  eye,  which  was 
expressionless,  except  in  a  sinister  glance,  occasioned  by  a  partial 
squint,  a  small  upturned  no.se,  a  mouth  with  thin  and  compressed 
lips  inclining  downwards  at  the  corners,  a  double  chin,  bristling 
with  a  wiry  and  almost  white  beard,  a  low  forehead,  a  bald  crown, 
and  meagre,  reddish  whiskers,  were  the  ill-favored  traits  of  his 
j)hysiognomy.  The  figure  of  this  person  was  as  uncouth  as  his  coun-^ 
tenance.  He  was  rather  below  the  middle  height,  and  appeared’ 
still  shorter  by  the  stoop  of  his  massive  round  shoulders,  by  the 
ample  bulk  of  his  chest,  and  by  the  rotundity  of  his  corporation. 

9 


194 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


In  consideration  of  his  rank,  as  the  leader  of  this  vagabond 
squadron,  he  aimed  at  more  military  ornament  in  his  dress  than 
his  comrades.  A  greasy  cocked  hat,  decorated  after  the  fashion 
described  by  Grumio,  “  with  the  humor  of  forty  fancies  pricked  in 
it  for  a  feather,”  was  perched  somewhat  superciliously  upon  his 
poll,  and  his  body  was  invested  in  an  old  and  much  abused  cloth 
coat  of  London  brown,  as  it  was  then  called,  to  the  ample 
shoulders  of  which  had  been  attached  two  long,  nari’ow,  and 
threadbare  epaulets  of  tarnished  silver  lace.  A  broad  buckskin  belt 
was  girded,  by  the  help  of  a  large  brass  buckle,  around  his  middle, 
on  the  outside  of  his  coat,  and  it  served  as  well  to  suspend  a 
rusty  sabre,  as  to  furnish  support  to  a  hunting  knife,  which  was 
thrust  into  it  in  front.  His  nether  person  was  rendered  conspicu¬ 
ous  by  a  pair  of  dingy  small-clothes,  and  long  black  boots.  Close 
at  the  feet  of  this  redoubtable  commander  lay  a  fat,  surly  bull¬ 
dog,  whose  snarlish  temper  seemed  to  have  been  fostered  and  pro¬ 
moted  by  the  peremptory  perverseness  with  which  his  master 
claimed  for  him  all  the  privileges  and  indulgencies  of  a  pampered 
favorite. 

Such  were  the  unattractive  exterior  and  circumstances  of 
the  man  who  assumed  control  over  the  band  of  rutBans  now 
assembled. 

“  I  wish  you  and  the  cards  had  been  broiled  on  the  devil’s  grid¬ 
iron  before  I  ever  saw  you  !”  continued  Habershaw,  after  he  had 
consigned  the  pack  to  the  flames.  “  That  such  a  noble  beast  as 
Backbiter  should  be  whipped  out  of  my  hand  by  the  ton  of  a 
rascally  card  !  Hark’ee,  you  imp  of  Satan,  you  have  the  knack 
of  winning !  your  luck,  or  something  else — you  understand  me — 
something  else,  would  win  the  shirt  off  my  back  if  I  was  such  a 
fool  as  to  play  longer  with  you.  I  suspect  you  are  a  light-fingered 
Jack  —  a  light-fingered  Jack  —  d’ye  hear  that,  Master  Pepper¬ 
corn  ?” 

“  How  now,  Bully  !”  cried  Peppercorn  ;  “  are  you  turning  boy  in 
your  old  days,  that  you  must  fall  to  whining  because  you  have 
lost  a  turn  at  play  ?  Is  every  man  a  rogue  since  you  have  set  up 
the  trade  ?  For  shame  !  If  I  were  as  hot  a  fool  as  you,  I  would 
give  you  steel  in  your  guts.  But  come,  noble  Captain,  there’s  my 
hand.  This  is  no  time  for  us  to  be  catching  quarrels  ;  we  have 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


195 


other  business  cut  out.  As  to  Backbiter,  the  rat-tailed  and  spavined 
bone-setter,  curse  me  if  I  would  have  him  as  a  gift :  a  noble 
beast !  ha,  ba,  ha !  Take  him  back,  man,  take  him  back !  be 
wasn’t  worth  the  cards  that  won  him.” 

“  Silence,  you  tailor’s  bastard !  Would  you  breed  a  mutiny 
in  the  camp  ?  Look  around  you  ;  do  you  expect  me  to  preserve 
discipbne  amongst  these  wild  wood-scourers,  with  your  loud  haw- 
haws  to  my  very  teeth  ?  You  make  too  free.  Peppercorn  ;  you 
make  too  free  !  It  wouldn’t  take  much  to  make  me  strike  ;  damn 
me,  there’s  fighting  blood  in  me,  and  you  know  it.  When  I  am 
at  the  bead  of  my  men,  you  must  know  your  distance,  sir.  Suffice 
it,  I  don’t  approve  of  this  familiarity  to  the  commander  of  a  squad. 
But  it  is  no  matter  :  I  let  it  pass  this  time.  And,  hark  in  your 
ear,  as  you  underrate  Backbiter,  you  are  a  fool.  Peppercorn,  and 
know  no  more  of  the  points  of  a  good  horse  than  you  do  of  the 
ten  commandments.  Why,  blast  you,  just  to  punish  you.  I’ll  hold 
you  to  the  word  of  a  gentleman,  and  take  him  back.  Now 
there’s  an  end  of  it,  and  let’s  have  no  more  talking.” 

“Right,  noble  Captain  !”  ejaculated  Peppercorn,  with  a  fi'ee  and 
swaggering  laugh,  “  right !  I  will  uphold  the  discipline  of  the 
valiant  Hugh  Habershaw  of  the  Tiger  against  all  the  babblers  the 
world  over.  By  the  God  of  war,  I  marvel  that  Cruger  hasn’t 
forced  upon  you  one  of  his  commissions,  before  this ;  the  army 
would  be  proud  of  such  a  master  of  tactics.” 

“  The  time  will  come,  Peppercorn  ;  the  time  will  come,  and  then 
I’ll  teach  them  the  elements  of  military  construction.  Mark  that 
word.  Peppercorn,  there’s  meaning  in  it.” 

“  Huzza  for  Captain  Tiger  of  Habershaw  —  Habershaw  of 
Tiger,  I  mean  !”  cried  Peppercorn.  “  Here’s  Tiger  Habershaw, 
my  boys  !  Drink  to  that.”  And  saying  these  words,  the  dra¬ 
goon  snatched  up  a  leathern  canteen  from  the  ground,  and,  pour¬ 
ing  out  some  spirits  into  the  cup,  drank  them  off. 

The  rest  of  the  crew  sprang  from  the  grass,  and  followed  the 
example  set  them  by  their  comrade,  roaring  out  the  pledge  until 
the  woods  rang  with  their  vociferation. 

“  Peace  !  you  rapscallions !”  screamed  the  captain.  “  Have  you 
so  little  notion  where  you  are,  that  you  bellow  like  bulls  ?  Is  this 
your  discipline,  when  you  should  be  as  silent  as  cats  in  a  kitchen, 


196 


HORSK  SHOK  ROBINSON. 


hellhound  !  And  you,  you  coarse-throated  devil,  Beauty,”  he  said 
as  he  kicked  his  dog,  that  had  contributed  to  the  chorus  with  a 
loud  sympathetic  howl,  “  you  must  be  breaking  the  laws  of  ser¬ 
vice  guard  with  your  infernal  roar,  like  the  other  fools  of  the 
pack.  Be  still,  puppy  !” 

The  clamor  upon  this  rebuke  ceased,  and  the  bull-dog  crouched 
again  at  his  master’s  feet. 

“  Isn’t  it  time  that  we  were  at  the  ford  ?  Oughtn’t  our  friends 
to  be  near  at  hand  ?”  inquired  Peppercorn. 

“Black  Jack  will  give  us  notice,”  replied  Habershaw.  “De¬ 
pend  upon  him.  I  have  thought  of  everything  hke  a  man  that 
knows  his  business.  I  have  sent  that  rascal  up  the  road,  with 
orders  to  feel  the  enemy ;  and  I’ll  undertake  he’ll  clink  it  back 
when  he  once  lays  eyes  on  them,  as  fast  as  four  legs  will  carry 
him.  But  it  is  always  well  to  be  beforehand.  Peppercorn.  Learn 
that  from  me  :  I  never  in  my  campaigns  knowed  any  harm  done 
by  being  too  early.  So,  Master  Orderly,  call  the  roll.”- 

“  Keady,  sir ;  always  ready  when  you  command,”  answered 
Peppercorn.  “  Shall  I  call  the  ragamuffins  by  their  nicknames,  or 
will  you  have  them  handled  like  Christians.” 

“  On  secret  service,”  said  Habershaw,  “  it  is  always  best  to  use 
them  to  their  nicknames.” 

“  As  when  they  go  horse-stealing,  or  house-burning,  or  throat¬ 
cutting,”  interrupted  Peppercorn. 

“  Order,  sir,  no  indecencies !  do  you  hear  ?  Go  on  with  your 
roll,  if  you  have  got  it  by  heart.  Be  musical,  dog  !” 

“  Faith  will  I,  most  consummate  captain !  It  is  just  to  my 
hand :  I’ll  sing  you  like  a  bagpipe.  I  have  learnt  the  roll- 
call  handsomely,  and  can  go  through  it  as  if  it  were  a  song.” 

“  Begin  then :  the  time  is  coming  when  we  must  move.  I 
think  I  hear  Black  Jack’s  horse  breaking  through  the  bushes 
now.” 

“  Attention,  you  devil’s  babies,  the  whole  of  you  !”  shouted 
Peppercorn.  “  Horse  and  gun,  every  mother’s  imp  of  you  !” 

In  a  moment  the  idlers  sprang  to  their  weapons  and  mounted 
their  horses. 

“  Answer  to  your  names,”  said  the  orderly ;  “  and  see  that  you 
do  it  discreetly.  Pimple  !” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


197 


“  Here,”  answered  one  of  the  disorderly  crew,  with  a  laugh. 

“  Silence  in  the  ranks  !”  cried  Habershaw,  “  or,  by  the  blood  of 
your  bodies.  I’ll  make  my  whinger  acquainted  with  your  hearts !” 

“  Long  Shanks.” 

“  Here  !  if  you  mean  me,”  said  another. 

“  Good !  Black  Jack.” 

“  On  patrole,”  said  the  captain. 

“  Red  Mug.” 

“  At  the  book,”  answered  the  man  in  the  ranks ;  and  here  rose 
another  laugh. 

“  Red  Mug !  do  you  mind  me  ?”  said  Habershaw,  in  a  threaten¬ 
ing  tone,  as  his  eye  squinted  fiercely  towards  the  person  addressed. 

“  Platter  Breech.” 

“  ni  stand  out  against  the  nickname,”  said  the  person  intended 
to  be  designated,  whilst  the  whole  squad  began  to  give  symptoms 
of  a  mutiny  of  merriment.  “  I’ll  be  d — d  if  I  will  have  it,  and 
that’s  as  good  as  if  I  swore  to  it.  I  am  not  going  to  be  cajoled  at 
by  the  whole  company.” 

“  Silence !  Blood  and  butter,  you  villains  !”  roared  the  captain. 
“  Don’t  you  see  that  you’re  in  line  ?  How  often  have  I  told  you 
that  it’s  against  discipline  to  chirp  above  a  whisper  when  you  are 
drawn  out  ?  Take  care  that  I  hav’n’t  to  remind  you  of  that  again ! 
Andy  Clopper,  you  will  keep  the  denomination  I  have  set  upon 
you.  Platter  Breech  is  a  good  soldier-hke  name,  and  you  shall 
die  in  it,  if  I  bid  you.  Go  on.  Orderly — proceed  I” 

“  Marrow  Bone.” 

“  Here !” 

“  Fire  Nose.” 

“  Fire  Nose  yourself.  Mister  Disorderly !”  replied  another  refrac¬ 
tory  member,  sullenly  from  the  ranks. 

“  Well,  let  him  pass.  That’s  a  cross-grained  devil,”  said  the 
•  captain,  aside  to  Peppercorn.  “  I’ll  bring  that  chap  into  order  yet, 
the  d — d  mutineering  back  hanger  !  Pass  him.” 

“  Screech  Owl.” 

“  Here !” 

“  That’s  a  decent,  good-natured  Screech  Owl,”  said  Peppercorn. 
“  Clapper  Claw  !  Bow  Legs  !” 

“  Both  here.” 


198 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  They  are  all  here,  most  comfortable  Captain,  all  good  fellows 
and  true,  and  as  ready  to  follow  you  into  the  belly  of  an  earth¬ 
quake  as  go  to  supper,  it  is  all  the  same  to  them.” 

“  Let  them  follow  where  I  lead.  Peppercorn  ;  that  is  all  I  ask,” 
said  Hahershaw  significantly. 

“  You  have  forgot  one  name  on  your  roll,  Mister  Orderly,”  said 
he  who  had  been  written  down  by  the  name  of  Fire  Nose. 

“  Whose  was  that  ?” 

“  You  forgot  Captain  Moonface  Bragger — captain  of  the  squad.” 

“  Gideon  Blake  !”  shouted  Habershaw,  with  a  voice  choked  by 
anger,  until  it  resembled  the  growl  of  a  mastiff,  whilst,  at  the 
same  time,  he  drew  his  sword  half  out  of  the  scabbard.  “  How- 
sever,  it  is  very  well,”  he  said,  restraining  his  wrath  and  permitting 
the  blade  to  drop  back  into  its  sheath.  “Another  time,  sir.  I 
have  marked  you,  you  limb  of  a  traitor.  May  all  the  devils  ride 
over  me  if  I  don’t  drive  a  bullet  through  your  brain  -if  you  ever 
unfringe  my  discipline  again  !  Yes,  you  foul-mouthed  half- whig,  I 
have  had  my  suspicions  of  you  before  to-day.  So  look  to  your¬ 
self.  A  fine  state  of  things  when  skunks  like  you  can  be  setting 
up  a  mutiny  in  the  service  !  Take  care  of  yourself,  sir,  you  know 
me.  Now,  my  lads,  to  business.  Eemember  the  orders  I  issued 
at  the  Dogwood  Spring,  this  morning.  This  Whig  officer  must  be 
taken  dead  or  alive,  and  don’t  be  chicken-hearted  about  it.  Give 
him  the  lead — give  him  the  lead  !  As  to  the  lusty  fellow  that  rides 
with  him — big  Horse  Shoe — have  a  care  of  him ;  that’s  a  dog  that 
bites  without  barking.  But  be  on  the  watch  that  they  don’t  es¬ 
cape  you  again.  Since  we  missed  them  at  the  spring  they  have 
cost  us  a  hard  ride  to  head  them  here,  so  let  them  pay  for  it.  See 
that  they  are  well  into  the  ford  before  you  show  yourselves.  Wait 
for  orders  from  me,  and  if  I  fall  by  the  fortune  of  war,  take  your 
orders  from  Peppercorn.  If  by  chance  we  should  miss  them  at 
the  river,  push  for  Christie’s  ;  Wat  has  taken  care  that  they  shall 
make  for  that,  to-night.  If  any  of  you,  by  mistake,  you  under¬ 
stand  me,  take  them  prisoners,  brin^  them  back  to  this  spot.  Now 
you  have  heard  my  orders,  that’s  enough.  Keep  silent  and  ready. 
Mind  your  discipline.  Black  Jack  is  long  coming,  Orderly ;  these 
fellows  must  travel  slow.” 

“  I  hear  him  now.”  replied  Peppercorn. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


199 


Ill  the  next  moment  tlie  scout  referred  to  galloped  into  the 
circle.  Ilis  report  was  hastily  made.  It  announced  that  the 
travellers  were  moving  leisurely  towards  the  ford,  and  that  not 
many  minutes  could  elapse  before  their  arrival.  Upon  this  intelli¬ 
gence  Ilabershaw  immediately  marched  his  troop  to  the  road  and 
posted  them  in  the  cover  of  the  underwood  that  skirted  the  river, 
at  the  crossing-place.  Here  they  remained  like  wild  beasts  aware 
of  the  ajiproach  of  their  prey,  and  waiting  the  moment  to  spring 
upon  them  when  it  might  be  done  with  the  least  chance  of  suc¬ 
cessful  resistance. 

Meantime  Butler  and  Robinson  advanced  at  a  wearied  pace. 
The  twilight  had  so  far  faded  as  to  be  only  discernible  on  the 
western  sky.  The  stars  were  twinkling  through  the  leaves  of  the 
forest,  and  the  light  of  the  firefly  spangled  the  wilderness.  The 
road  might  be  descried,  in  the  most  open  parts  of  the  wood,  for 
some  fifty  paces  ahead ;  but  wliere  the  shrubbery  was  more  dense, 
it  was  lost  in  utter  darkness.  Our  travellers,  like  most  wayfarers 
towards  the  end  of  the  day,  rode  silently  along,  seldom  exchang¬ 
ing  a  word,  and  anxiously  computing  the  distance  which  they  had 
yet  to  traverse  before  they  reached  their  appointed  place  of  repose. 

A  sense  of  danger,  and  the  necessity  for  vigilance,  on  the  present 
occasion,  made  them  the  more  silent. 

“  I  thought  I  heard  a  wild  sort  of  yeU  just  now — people  laugh¬ 
ing  a  great  way  off,”  said  Robinson,  “  but  there’s  such  a  hooting 
of  owls  and  piping  of  frogs  that  I  mought  have  been  mistaken. 
Halt,  Major.  Let  me  listen — there  it  is  again.” 

“  It  is  the  crying  of  a  panther,  sergeant ;  more  than  a  mile  from  « 
us,  by  my  ear.” 

“  It  is  mightily  like  the  scream  of  drunken  men,”  replied  the 
sergeant ;  “  and  there,  too  !  I  thought  I  heard  the  clatter  of  a  hoof.” 

The  travellers  again  reined  up  and  listened. 

“  It  is  more  like  a  deer  stalking  through  the  bushes,  Galbraith.” 

“  Xo,”  exclaimed  the  sergeant,  “  that’s  the  gallop  of  a  horse 
making  down  the  road  ahead  of  us,  as  sure  as  you  are  alive ;  I 
heard  the  shoe  strike  a  stone.  You  must  have  hearn  it  too.” 

“  I  wouldn’t  be  sure,”  answered  Butler. 

“  Look  to  your  pistols.  Major,  and  prime  afresh.” 

“  We  seem  to  have  ridden  a  great  way,”  said  Butler,  as  he  con- 


200 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


eluded  the  inspection  of  liis  pistols  and  now  held  one  of  them 
ready  in  his  hand.  “  Can  we  have  lost  ourselves  ?  Should  we  not 
have  reached  the  Pacolet  before  this  ?” 

“  I  have  seen  no  road  that  could  take  us  astray,”  replied  Eobin- 
son,  “  and,  by  what  we  were  told  just  before  sundown,  I  should 
guess  that  we  couldn’t  be  far  off  the  ford.  We  hav’n’t  then  quite 
three  miles  to  Christie’s.  Well,  courage,  major  !  supper  and  bed 
were  never  spoiled  by  the  trouble  -of  getting  to  them.” 

“  Wat  Adair,  I  think,  directed  us  to  Christie’s  ?”  said  Butler. 

“  He  did  ;  and  I  had  a  mind  to  propose  to  you,  since  we  caught 
him  in  a  trick  this  morning,  to  make  for  some  other  house,  if  such 
a  thing  was  possible,  or  else  to  spend  the  night  in  the  woods.” 

“  Perhaps  it  would  be  wise,  sergeant ;  and  if  you  think  so  still, 
I  rvill  be  ruled  by  you.” 

“  If  we  once  got  by  the  river-side  where  our  horses  mought 
have  water,  I  almost  think  I  should  advise  a  halt  there.  Although 
I  have  made  one  observation.  Major  Butler — that  running  water  is 
lean  fare  for  a  hungry  man.  Howsever,  it  won’t  hurt  us,  and  if 
you  say  the  word  we  will  stop  there.” 

“  Then,  sergeant,  I  do  say  the  word.” 

“  Isn’t  that  the  glimmering  of  a  light  yonder  in  the  bushes  ?” 
inquired  Horse  Shoe,  as  he  turned  his  gaze  in  the  direction  of  the 
bivouac,  “  or  is  it  these  here  lightning  bugs  that  keep  so  busy 
shooting  about  ?” 

“  I  thought  I  saw  the  light  you  speak  of,  Galbraith ;  but  it  has 
disappeared.” 

“  It  is  there  again,  major ;  and  I  hear  the  rushing  of  the  river 
— we  are  near  the  ford.  Perhaps  this  light  comes  from  some 
cabin  on  the  bank.” 

“  God  send  that  it  should  turn  out  so,  Galbraith  !  for  I  am  very 
weary.” 

“  There  is  some  devilment  going  on  in  these  woods,  major.  I 
saw  a  figure  pass  in  front  of  the  light  through  the  bushes.  I 
would  be  willing  to  swear  it  was  a  man  on  horseback.  Perhaps 
we  have,  by  chance,  fallen  on  some  Tory  muster ;  or,  what’s  not  so 
likely,  they  may  be  friends.  I  think  I  will  ride  forward  and 
challenge.” 

“Better  pass  unobserved,  if  you  can,  sergeant,”  interrupted 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


201 


Butler.  “  It  will  not  do  for  us  to  run  the  risk  of  being  separated. 
Here  we  are  at  the  river ;  let  us  cross,  and  ride  some  distance ; 
then,  if  any  one  follow  us,  we  shall  be  more  certain  of  his  design.” 

They  now  cautiously  advanced  into  the  river,  which,  though 
rapid,  was  shallow  ;  and  having  reached  the  middle  of  the  stream, 
they  halted  to  allow  their  horses  water. 

“  Captain  Peter  is  as  thirsty  as  a  man  in  a  fever,”  said  Horse 
Shoe.  “  He  drinks  as  if  he  was  laying  in  for  a  week.  Now, 
major,  since  we  are  here  in  the  river,  look  up  the  stream.  Don’t 
you  see,  from  the  image  in  the  water,  that  there’s  a  fire  on  the 
bank  ?  And  there,  by  my  soul !  there  are  men  on  horseback. 
Look  towards  the  light.  Spur,  and  out  on  the  other  side  !  Quick 
— quick — they  are  upon  us  !” 

At  the  same  instant  that  Horse  Shoe  spoke,  a  bullet  whistled 
close  by  his  ear  ;  and,  in  the  next,  six  or  eight  men  galloped  into 
the  river,  from  different  points.  This  was  succeeded  by  a  sharp 
report  of  firearms  from  both  parties,  and  the  vigorous  charge  of 
Robinson,  followed  by  Butler,  through  the  array  of  the  assailants. 
They  gained  the  opposite  bank,  and  now  dhected  all  their  efforts 
to  outrun  their  pursuers ;  but  in  the  very  crisjs  of  their  escape, 
Butler’s  horse,  bounding  under  the  prick  of  the  spur,  staggered  a 
few  paces  from  the  river  and  fell  dead.  A  bullet  had  lodged  in  a 
vital  part,  and  the  energy  of  the  brave  steed  was  spent  in  the  effort 
to  bear  his  master  through  the  stream.  Butler  fell  beneath  the 
stricken  animal,  from  whence  he  was  unable  to  extricate  himself. 
The  sergeant,  seeing  his  comrade’s  condition,  sprang  from  his  horse 
and  ran  to  his  assistance,  and,  in  the  same  interv'al,  the  ruffian  fol¬ 
lowers  gained  the  spot  and  surrounded  their  prisoners.  An 
ineffectual  struggle  ensued  over  the  prostrate  horse  and  rider,  in 
which  Robinson  bore  down  more  than  one  of  his  adversaries,  but 
was  obliged,  at  last,  to  yield  to  the  overwhelming  power  that 
pressed  upon  him. 

“  Bury  your  swords  in  both  of  them  to  the  hilts !”  shouted 
Habershaw ;  “  I  don’t  want  to  have  that  work  to  do  to-morrow.” 

“  Stand  off !”  cried  Gideon  Blake,  as  two  or  three  of  the  gang 
sprang  forward  to  execute  their  captain’s  order  ;  “  stand  off’ !  the 
man  is  on  his  back,  and  he  shall  not  be  murdered  in  cold  blood 
and  the  speaker  took  a  position  near  Butler,  prepared  to  make 

9* 


202 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


good  his  resolve.  The  spirit  of  Blake  had  its  desired  effect,  and 
the  same  assailants  now  turned  upon  Robinson. 

“  Hold !”  cried  Peppercorn,  throwing  up  his  sword  and  warding 
off’  the  blows  that  were  aimed  by  these  men  at  the  body  of  the 
sergeant.  “  Hold,  you  knaves  !  this  is  my  prisoner.  I  will  deal 
with  him  to  my  liking.  Would  a  dozen  of  you  strike  one  man 
when  he  has  surrendered  ?  Back,  ye  cowards  ;  leave  him  to  me. 
How  now,  old  Horse  Shoe ;  are  you  caught,  with  your  gay  master 
here  ?  Come,  come,  we  know  you  both.  So  yield  with  a  good 
grace,  lest,  peradventure,  I  might  happen  to  blow  out  your 
brains.” 

“  Silence,  fellows  !  You  carrion  crows  !”  roared  Habershaw, 
“  Remember  the  discipline  I  taught  you.  Ho  disorder,  nor  con¬ 
fusion,  but  take  the  prisoners,  since  you  hav’n’t  the  heart  to  strike ; 
take  them  to  the  rendezvous.  And  do  it  quietly — do  you  hear  ? 
Secure  the  baggage  ;  and  about  it  quickly,  you  hounds  !” 

Butler  was  now  lifted  from  the  ground,  and,  with  his  com- 
jianion,  was  taken  into  the  custody  of  Blake  and  one  or  two  of  his 
companions,  who  seemed  to  share  in  his  desire  to  prevent  the 
shedding  of  blood.  The  prisoners  were  each  mounted  behind  one 
of  the  troopers,  and  in  this  condition  conducted  across  the  river. 
The  saddle  and  other  equipments  were  stripped  from  the  major’s 
dead  steed ;  and  Robinson’s  horse.  Captain  Peter,  was  burdened 
with  the  load  of  two  wounded  men,  whose  own  horses  had  escaped 
from  them  in  the  fray.  In  this  guise  the  band  of  freebooters,  with 
their  prisoners  and  spoils,  slowly  and  confusedly  made  their  way 
to  the  appointed  place  of  re-assembling.  In  a  few  moments  they 
were  ranged  beneath  the  chestnut,  waiting  for  orders  from  their 
self-important  and  vain  commander. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


SCENE  IN  THE  BIVOUAC. 


'*  Bustle,  my  lads — bustle !  These  are  stirring  times,”  exclaimed 
Habershaw,  riding  with  an  air  of  gi’eat  personal  consequence  into 
the  midst  of  the  troop,  as  they  were  gathered,  still  on  horseback, 
under  the  chestnut.  “  We  have  made  a  fine  night’s  work  of  it, 
and,  considering  that  we  fought  in  the  dark  against  men  ready 
ai'med  for  us,  this  has  not  been  such  a  light  affair.  To  be  sure, 
in  point  of  numbers,  it  is  a  trifle  ;  but  the  plan.  Peppercorn — the 
plan,  and  the  despatch,  and  the  neatness  of  the  thing — that’s  what 
I  say  I  am  entitled  to  credit  for.  Bless  your  soul.  Peppercorn, 
these  fellows  were  sure  to  fall  into  my  trap — there  was  no  getting 
oft’.  That’s  the  effect  of  my  generalship,  you  see.  Peppercorn. 
Study  it,  boy !  We  could  have  managed  about  twenty  more  of 
the  filthy  rebels  handsomely ;  but  this  will  do — this  will  do.  I 
took,  as  a  commanding  officer  ought  always  to  do,  the  full  respon¬ 
sibility  of  the  measure,  and  a  good  share  of  the  fight.  Did  I  not. 
Peppercorn  ?  AVasn’t  I,  in  your  opinion,  about  the  first  man  in 
the  river  ?” 

“  ni  hear  witness,  valiant  and  victorious  captain,”  answered  the 
dragoon,  “  that  you  fired  the  firet  shot ;  and  I  am  almost  willing 
to  make  oath  that  I  saw  you  within  at  least  twenty  paces  of  the 
enemy,  exhorting  your  men.” 

“  Now  lads — wait  for  the  word — dismount !”  continued  the  cap¬ 
tain,  “  and  make  uji  your  minds  to  pass  the  night  where  you  are. 
Peppercorn,  the  prisoners  I  put  under  your  identical  charge. 
Remember  that !  keep  your  eyes  about  you.  Set  a  guard  of  four 
men  upon  them  ;  I  will  make  you  accountable.”  He  then  added, 
in  an  under  tone,  “  hold  them  safe  until  to-moiTow,  man,  and  I 
promise  you,  you  shall  ;}iave  no  trouble  in  watching  them  after 


204 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  You  shall  find  them,”  replied  Peppercorn. 

“  Silence,”  interrupted  the  captain  ;  “  hear  my  orders,  and  give 
no  reply.  Now,  sir,  before  you  do  anything  else,  call  your  roll, 
and  report  your  killed,  wounded,  and  missing.” 

Ujion  this  order,  the  dragoon  directed  the  men,  after  disposing 
of  their  horses,  to  form  a  line.  He  then  called  over  the  squad  by 
their  real  names,  and  immediately  afterwards  reported  to  his 
superior,  who,  in  order  to  preserve  a  proper  dignified  distance, 
had  retreated  some  paces  from  the  group,  the  following  pithy  and 
soldier-like  account ; — 

“  Two  men  wounded,  noble  captain,  in  the  late  action ;  two 
missing  ;  one  horse,  saddle  and  bridle  lost ;  one  horse  and  two  pri¬ 
soners  taken  from  the  enemy.” 

“  The  names  of  the  wounded,  sir  ?” 

“  Tom  Dubbs  and  Shadrach  Green  ;  one  slightly  scratched,  and 
the  other  bruised  by  a  kick  from  the  blacksmith.” 

“  The  missing,  sir  ?” 

“Dick  Waters,  commonly  called  Marrow  Bone,  and  Roger 
Bell,  known  in  your  honor’s  list  by  the  name  of  Clapper 
Claw.” 

“  They  have  skulked,”  said  the  captain. 

“  Marrow  Bone  is  as  dead  as  a  door  nail,  sir,”  said  the  orderly 
with  perfect  indifference,  and  standing  affectedly  erect.  “  He  fell 
in  the  river,  and  the  probability  is  that  Clapper  Claw  keeps  him 
company.” 

“What!”  roared  Habershaw,  “have  the  diabolical  scoundrels 
made  away  with  any  of  my  good  fellows  ?  Have  the  precious 
lives  of  my  brave  soldiers  been  poured  out  by  the  d — d  rebels  ? 
By  my  hand,  they  shall  feel  twisted  rope.  Peppercorn  ! — cold  iron 
is  too  good  for  them.” 

“  Softly,  captain  1”  said  the  orderly.  “  You  don’t  blame  the 
enemy  for  showing  fight?  We  mustn’t  quarrel  with  the  chances 
of  war.  There  is  not  often  a  fray  without  a  broken  head,  captain. 
We  must  deal  with  the  prisoners  according  to  the  laws  of  war.” 

“  Of  Tory  war.  Peppercorn,  aye,  that  will  1 1  String  the  dogs 
up  to  the  first  tree.  The  devil’s  pets,  why  didn’t  they  surrender 
when  we  set  upon  them !  To-morrow :  let  them  look  out 
to-morrow.  No  words,  orderly  ;  send  out  two  files  to  look  for  the 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


205 


% 


bodies,  and  to  bring  in  the  stray  horse  if  they  can  find  him.  A 
pretty  night’s  work  !  to  lose  two  good  pieces  of  stuff  for  a  brace  of 
black-hearted  whigs !” 

The  two  files  were  detailed  for  the  duty  required,  and  immedi¬ 
ately  set  out,  on  foot,  towards  the  scene  of  the  late  fray.  The  res! 
of  the  troop  were  dismissed  from  the  line. 

“  I  would  venture  to  ask,  sir,”  said  Butler,  addressing  the  cap- 
Jaiii,  “  for  a  cup  of  water  :  I  am  much  hurt.” 

“  Silence,  and  be  d — d  to  you !”  said  Habershaw  gruffly, 
“  silence,  and  know  your  place,  sir.  You  are  a  prisoner,  and  a 
traitor  to  boot.” 

“  Don’t  you  hear  the  gentleman  say  he  is  hurt  ?”  interposed 
Kobinson.  “  It’s  onnatural,  and  more  like  a  beast  than  a  man  to 
deny  a  prisoner  a  little  water.” 

“  By  my  sword,  villain,  I  will  cleave  your  brain  for  you,  if  you 
open  that  rebel  mouth  of  yours  again !” 

“  Pshaw,  pshaw  !  Captain  Habershaw,  this  will  never  do,”  said 
Peppercorn ;  “  men  are  men,  and  must  have  food  and  drink. 
Here,  Gideon  Blake,  give  me  your  fiask  of  liquor  and  bring  me 
some  water  from  the  river.  It  is  my  duty,  captain,  to  look  after 
the  prisoners.” 

Gideon  Blake,  who  was  a  man  of  less  savage  temper  than  most 
of  his  associates,  obeyed  this  command  with  alacrity,  and  even 
added  a  few  words  of  kindness,  as  he  assisted  in  administering 
refreshment  to  the  prisoners.  This  evidence  of  a  gentler  nature 
did  not  escape  the  comment  of  the  ruffian  captain,  who  still 
remembered  his  old  gi’udge  against  the  trooper. 

“  Away,  sir,”  he  said  in  a  peremptory  and  angry  tone,  “  away 
and  attend  to  your  own  duty.  You  are  ever  fond  of  obliging 
these  beggarly  whigs.  Hark  you.  Peppercorn,”  he  added,  speaking 
apart  to  the  dragoon,  “  take  care  how  you  trust  this  skulking  vaga¬ 
bond  :  he  will  take  bribes  from  the  rebels,  and  turn  his  coat  when¬ 
ever  there  is  money  in  the  way.  I  have  my  eye  upon  him.” 

“  If  I  chose  to  .speak,”  said  Gideon  Blake. 

“  Hold  your  peace,  you  grey  fox,”  cried  the  captain.  “  Not  a 
word !  I  know  your  doublings.  Remember  you  are  under  martial 
law,  and  blast  me,  if  I  don’t  make  you  feel  it !  There  are  more 
than  myself  suspect  you.” 


206 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


♦ 


# 


“I  should  like  to  know,”  said  Butler,  “why  I  and  my  com¬ 
panion  are  molested  on  our  journey.  Have  we  fallen  amongst 
banditti,  or  do  you  bear  a  lawful  commission  ?  If  you  do,  sir,  let 
me  tell  you,  you  have  disgraced  it  by  outrage  and  violence  exer¬ 
cised  towards  unoffending  men,  and  shall  answer  for  it  when  the 
occasion  serves.  On  ivhat  pretence  have  we  been  arrested  ?” 

“  Hark,  my  young  fighting-cock,”  replied  the  captain.  “You 
will  know  your  misdemeanors  soon  enough.  And  if  you  would 
sleep  to-night  with  a  whole  throat,  you  will  keep  your  tongue 
within  your  teetli.  It  wouldn’t  take  much  to  persuade  me  to  give 
you  a  little  drum-head  law.  Ho  you  hear  that  ?” 

“  It  is  my  advice,  major,”  whispered  Robinson,  “  to  ax  no  ques¬ 
tions  of  these  blackguards.” 

“  Be  it  so,  sergeant,”  said  Butler,  “  I  am  weary  and  sick.” 

When  other  cares  were  disposed  of,  and  the  excited  passions  of 
the  lawless  gang  had  subsided  into  a  better  mood,  the  dragoon 
took  Butler’s  cloak  from  the  baggage  and  spread  it  upon  the 
grormd  beneath  the  shelter  of  the  shrubbery,  and  the  suffering 
ofiicer  was  thus  furnished  a  bed  that  afforded  him  some  small 
share  of  comfort,  and  enabled  to  take  that  rest  which  he  so  much 
needed.  Robinson  seated  himself  on  the  ground  beside  his  com¬ 
panion,  and  in  this  situation  they  patiently  resigned  themselves  to 
whatever  fate  awaited  them. 

Soon  after  this  the  whole  troop  M'ere  busy  in  the  preparations 
for  refreshment  and  sleep.  The  horses  were  either  hohhled,  by  a 
cord  from  the  fore  to  the  hind  foot,  and  turned  loose  to  seek 
pasture  around  the  bivouac,  or  tethered  in  such  parts  of  the  forest 
as  furnished  them  an  opportunity  to  feed  on  the  shrubbery.  The 
fire  was  rekindled,  and  some  small  remnants  of  venison  roasted 
before  it ;  and  in  less  than  an  hour  this  reckless  and  ill-governed 
band  were  carousing  over  their  cups  with  all  the  rude  ribaldry  that 
belonged  to  such  natures. 

“  Come,  boys,”  said  Peppercorn,  who  seemed  to  take  a  delight 
in  urging  the  band  into  every  kind  of  excess,  and  who  possessed 
that  sort  of  sway  over  the  whole  crew,  including  their  leader  no  less 
than  the  privates,  which  an  expert  and  ready  skill  in  adapting 
himself  to  the  humor  of  the  comjiany  gave  him,  and  which  faculty 
he  now  appeared  to  exercise  for  the  increase  of  his  own  influence, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


20*7 


“  come,  boys,  laugb  while  you  can — that’s  my  motto.  This  soldier¬ 
ing  is  a  merry  life,  fighting,  drinking,  and  joking.  By  the  God  of 
war !  I  will  enlist  the  whole  of  you  into  the  regular  service — 
Ferguson  or  Cruger,  which  you  please,  boys !  they  are  both  fine 
fellows  and  would  give  purses  of  gold  for  such  charming,  gay, 
swaggering  blades.  Fill  up  your  cans  and  prepare  for  another 
bout.  I’m  not  the  crusty  cur  to  stint  thirsty  men.  A  toast,  my 
gay  fellows !” 

“  Listen  to  Peppercorn,”  cried  out  some  three  or  four  voices. 

“  Here’s  to  the  honor  of  the  brave  captain  Hugh  Habershaw,  and 
his  glorious  dogs  that  won  the  battle  of  Grindall’s  ford  !” 

A  broad  and  coarse  laugh  burst  from  the  captain  at  the 
announcement  of  this  toast. 

“  By  my  sword  !”  he  exclaimed,  “  the  fight  was  not  a  bad  fight.” 

“  Can  you  find  a  joint  of  venison,  Gideon  ?”  said  Peppercorn, 
aside.  “  If  you  can,  give  it,  and  a  cup  of  spirits,  to  the  prisoners. 
Stop,  I’ll  do  it  myself,  you  will  have  the  old  bull-dog  on  your 
back.” 

And  saying  this  the  dragoon  rose  from  his  seat,  and  taking  a 
few  fragments  of  the  meat  which  had  been  stripped  almost  to  the 
bone,  placed  them,  together  with  a  canteen,  beside  Butler. 

“  Make  the  best  of  your  time,”  he  said,  “  you  have  but  short 
allowance  and  none  of  the  best.  If  I  can  serve  yon,  I  will  do  it 
with  a  good  heart ;  so,  call  on  me.” 

Then  turning  to  the  sergeant,  who  sat  nigh,  he  whispered  in  his 
ear,  and,  with  a  distinct  and  somewhat  taunting  emphasis,  inquired, 

“  Friend  Horse  Shoe,  mayhap  thou  knowest  me?” 

“  That  I  do,  James  Curry,”  replied  the  sergeant,  “  and  I  have  a 
mean  opinion  of  the  company  you  keep.  I  don’t  doubt  but  you 
are  ashamed  to  say  how  yon  come  by  them.” 

“  All  is  fish  that  comes  into  the  Dutchman’s  net,”  said  Curry. 
“To-night  I  have  caught  fat  game.  You  are  a  sturdy  fellow, 
master  Blacksmith,  and  good  at  a  tug,  but  remember,  friend,  I  owe 
you  a  cuff,  and  if  you  Averen’t  a  prisoner  you  should  have  it.” 

“Show  me  fair  plaj',  James  Curry,  and  you  shall  have  a  chance 
noAA',”  said  Horse  Shoe  ;  “  I’ll  keep  my  parole  to  surrender  Avhen  it 
is  over.” 

“  Silence,  fool !”  returned  CiUTy,  at  the  same  time  rudely  pinch- 


208 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


ing  Robinson’s  ear.  “  You  ■will  be  a  better  man  than  I  take  you 
to  be,  if  you  ever  ■wrestle  ■with  me  again.  I  have  not  forgotten 
you.” 

The  dragoon  no^w  rejoined  his  comrades. 

“  Peppercorn,”  cried  Habershaw,  “  d — n  the  prisoners,  let  them 
fast  to-night.  The  lads  ■want  a  song.  Come,  the  liquor’s  getting 
lo^w,  ■we  want  noise,  we  want  uproar,  lad  !  Sing,  bully,  sing !” 

“  Anything  to  get  rid  of  the  night,  noble  captain.  What  shall 
I  give  you  ?” 

“  The  old  catch,  master  Orderly.  The  Jolly  Bottle,  the  Jolly 
Bottle,”  cried  Habershaw,  pronouncing  this  word  according  to 
ancient  usage,  with  the  accent  on  the  last  syllable,  as  if  spelt 
“  bottel ;”  “  give  us  the  Jolly  Bottle,  we  all  know  the  chorus  of  that 
song.  And  besides  it’s  the  best  in  your  pack.” 

“Well,  listen,  my  wet  fellows!”  said  Peppercorn,  “and  pipe 
lustily  in  the  chorus.” 

Here  the-  orderly  sang,  to  a  familiar  old  English  tune,  the  follow¬ 
ing  song,  which  was  perhaps  a  common  camp  ditty  of  the  period. 

“You  may  talk  as  you  please  of  your  candle  and  book, 

And  prate  about  virtue,  with  sanctified  look  ; 

Neither  priest,  book,  nor  candle,  can  help  you  so  well 
To  make  friends  with  the  world  as  the  Jolly  Bottle.” 

“  Chorus,  my  lads  ;  out  -with  it  1”  shouted  the  singer ;  and  the 
whole  crew  set  up  a  hideous  yell  as  they  joined  him. 

“  Sing  heave  and  ho,  and  trombelow. 

The  Jolly  Bottle  is  the  best  I  trow. 

“  Then  take  the  bottle,  it  is  well  stitched  of  leather. 

And  better  than  doublet  keeps  out  the  wind  and  weather : 

Let  the  bottom  look  up  to  the  broad  arch  of  blue. 

And  then  catch  the  drippings,  as  good  fellows  do. 

With  heave  and  ho,  and  trombelow, 

’Tis  sinful  to  waste  good  liquor,  you  know. 

“  The  soldier,  he  carries  his  knapsack  and  gun. 

And  swears  at  the  weight  as  he  tramps  through  the  sun : 

But,  devil  a  loon,  did  I  ever  hear  tell. 

Who  swore  at  the  weight  of  the  Jolly  Bottle. 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


209 


So  heaTG  and  ho,  and  trombelow, 

The  Jolly  Bottle  is  a  feather,  I  trow.” 

Here  the  song  was  interrupted  by  the  return  of  the  two  files 
who  had  been  sent  to  bring  in  the  bodies  of  the  dead.  They  had 
found  the  missing  horse,  and  now  led  him  into  the  circle  laden 
with  the  corpses  of  Bell  and  Waters.  The  troopers  halted  imme¬ 
diately  behind  the  ring  of  the  revellers,  and  in  such  a  position  as 
to  front  Peppercorn  and  the  captain,  who  were  thus  afforded  a 
full  view  of  the  bodies  by  the  blaze  of  the  fire. 

“  Easy,”  almost  whispered  Ilabershaw,  now  half  intoxicated,  to 
the  two  troopers,  as  he  lifted  his  hands  and  motioned  to  them  to 
halt ;  “  put  them  down  gently  on  the  ground.  Go  on.  Pepper¬ 
corn  ;  let  the  dead  help  themselves  :  finish  the  song !  That  chorus 
again,  my  boys !”  And  here  the  last  chorus  was  repeated  iii  the 
highest  key  of  merriment. 

Peppercorn  cast  an  eye  at  the  bodies  which,  during  the  interval, 
had  been  thrown  on  the  earth,  and  while  the  men  who  had  just 
returned  were  helping  themselves  to  the  drink,  he  proceeded,  in 
an  unaltered  voice,  with  the  song. 


“  When  drinkers  are  dry,  and  liquor  is  low, 

A  fray  that  takes  off  a  good  fellow  or  so, 

Wliy,  what  does  it  do,  but  help  us  to  bear 
The  loss  of  a  comrade,  in  drinking  his  share  ? 

Tlien  heave  and  ho,  and  trombelow, 

A  fray  and  a  feast  are  brothers,  you  know. 

“  Tlie  philosophers  say  it’s  a  well-settled  fact, 

Tliat  a  vessel  will  leak  whose  bottom  is  craeked ; 

And  a  belly  that’s  drilled  with  a  bullet,  I  think, 

Is  a  very  bad  belly  to  stow  away  drink. 

So  heave  and  ho,  and  trombelow, 

The  dead  will  be  dry  to-night,  I  trow.” 

“  There  they  are,  captain,”  said  one  of  the  returning  troopens, 
after  the  song,  to  which  he  and  his  companions  had  stood  listen¬ 
ing  with  delighted  countenances,  was  brought  to  an  end,  “there 
they  are.  We  found  Dick  Waters*  lying  in  the  road,  and  when 
we  first  came  to  him  he  gave  a  sort  of  groan,  but  we  didn’t  lift 


210 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


liim  until  we  came  back  from  hunting  Roger  Bell ;  by  that  time 
the  fellow  was  as  dead  as  a  pickled  herring.  Where  do  you 
think  we  found  Clapper  Claw  ?  Why,  half  a  mile,  almost,  down 
the  stream.  He  was  washed  along  and  got  jammed  up  betwixt 
the  roots  of  a  sycamore.  We  had  a  long  wade  after  him,  and 
trouble  enough  to  get  him — more,  I’m  thinking,  than  a  dead  man 
is  worth.  So,  give  us  some  more  rum  ;  this  is  ugly  work  to  be 
done  in  the  dark.” 

“  Scratch  a  hole  for  them,  lads,  under  the  bushes,”  said  Haber- 
shaw :  “  put  a  sod  blanket  over  them  before  morning.  That’s  the 
fortune  of  war,  as  Peppercorn  calls  it.  How  are  the  wounded  men 
getting  along  ?” 

“  Oh  bravely,  captain,”  replied  Shad  Green,  or,  according  to 
his  nick-name,  Red  Mug :  “  this  here  physic  is  a  main  thing  for  a 
scratch.” 

“  Bravely !”  echoed  Screech  Owl,  or  Tom  Dubbs,  the  same  who 
had  been  reported  by  the  dragoon  as  “  kicked  by  the  blacksmith 
“  we  are  plastering  up  sores  here  with  the  jolly  bottle : — 

“  Sing  heave  and  ho,  and  trombelow, 

Tire  Jolly  Bottle  is  a  feather,  I  trow.” 

“  What’s  a  cracked  crown,  so  as  it  holds  a  man’s  brains  ?”  con¬ 
tinued  the  drunken  carouser,  whilst  a  laugh  deformed  his  stupid 
physiognomy. 

“  How  are  we  olf  for  provisions,  quarter-master  ?”  inquired  the 
captain  of  one  of  the  gang. 

“  Eaten  out  of  skin,  from  nose  to  tail,”  replied  Black  Jack. 

“  Then  the  squad  must  forage  to-night,”  continued  Habershaw. 
“  We  must  take  a  buck,  my  sweet  ones ;  there  are  plenty  along 
the  river.  Get  your  rifles  and  prepare  lights,  and,  to  keep  out  of 
the  way  of  our  horses,  don’t  stop  short  of  a  mile.  Be  about  it, 
lads.  Black  Jack,  this  is  your  business.” 

“  True,  Captain,”  replied  the  person  addressed  ;  “  I  shall  have  all 
things  ready  directly.” 

It  was  near  midnight  when  Black  Jack,  having  prepared  some 
faggots  of  pitch-pine,  and  selected  three  or  four  of  the  best  marks¬ 
men,  left  the  bivouac  to  look  for  deer.  Habershaw  himself,  though 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


211 


lazy  and  inordinately  imjiressed  with  a  sense  of  his  own  dignity, 
and  now  confused  with  liquor,  could  not  resist  the  attraction  of 
this  sport.  He  accordingly,  not  long  after  the  others  had  departed, 
took  a  rifle,  and,  attended  by  his  hull-dog,  whom  he  never  parted 
from  on  any  occasion,  slowly  followed  in  the  direction  chosen  by 
the  hunters. 

Those  in  advance  had  scarcely  Avalked  along  the  margin  of  the 
river  a  mile  before  they  lighted  their  faggots,  and  began  to  beat 
the  neighboring  thickets ;  and  their  search  was  not  protracted 
many  minutes  when  the  light  of  their  torches  was  thrown  full  upon 
the  eyes  of  a  buck.  A  shot  from  one  of  the  marksmen  told  with 
unerring  precision  in  the  forehead  of  the  animal. 

The  report  and  the  light  brought  the  corpulent  captain  into  the 
neighborhood.  He  had  almost  walked  himself  out  of  breath ; 
and,  as  he  did  not  very  well  preserve  his  perpendicularity,  or  a 
straight  line  of  march,  he  had  several  times  been  tripped  up  by 
the  roots  of  trees,  or  by  rocks  and  briers  in  his  path.  Exhausted, 
at  length,  and  puzzled  by  the  stupefaction  of  his  oivn  brain,  as 
well  as  by  the  surrounding  darkness,  he  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree,  determined  to  wait  the  return  of  the  hunting  party.  His 
faithful  and  congenial  “  Beauty,”  not  less  pursy  and  short-winded 
than  himself,  and  not  more  savage  or  surly  in  disposition,  now 
couched  upon  his  haunches  immediately  between  his  master’s  legs ; 
and  here  this  pair  of  beastly  friends  remained,  silent  and  mutually 
soothed  by  their  own  companionship.  During  this  interval  the 
person  who  bore  the  fire,  followed  by  one  of  the  marksmen,  crept 
slowly  onward  to  the  vicinity  of  the  spot  where  the  captain  had 
seated  himself.  The  lapse  of  time  had  proved  too  much  for 
Habershaw’s  vigilance,  and  he  had,  at  length,  with  his  head  resting 
against  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  fallen  into  a  drunken  slumber.  The 
short  crack  of  a  rifle  at  hand,  and  the  yell  of  his  dog  awakened 
him.  He  started  upon  his  feet  with  sudden  surprise,  and  stepping 
one  pace  forward,  stumbled  and  fell  over  the  dead  body  of  his 
favorite  Beauty,  who  lay  beneath  him  weltering  in  blood.  The  shot 
was  followed  by  a  rush  of  the  hunter  up  to  the  spot :  it  was 
Gideon  Blake. 

“  Buck  or  doe,  it  is  my  shot !”  cried  Gideon,  as  he  halted  imme¬ 
diately  beside  Habershaw. 


212 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  May  all  the  devils  blast  you,  Gideon  Blake  !”  thundered  out 
the  incensed  captain.  “  You  have  sought  my  life,  you  murdering 
■wolf,  and  your  bullet  has  killed  Beauty.” 

“  I  shot  at  the  eyes  of  what  I  thought  a  deer,”  returned  Blake. 
“  You  were  a  fool,  Hugh  Habershaw,  to  bring  a  dog  into  such  a 
place.” 

“  My  poor  dog  !  my  brave  dog !  Beauty  was  worth  ten  thou¬ 
sand  such  bastard  villains  as  you !  And  to  have  him  killed !  May 
the  devil  feast  upon  your  soul  this  night,  Gideon  Blake !  Go ! 
and  account  for  your  wickedness.  Take  that,  snake !  tiger !  black¬ 
hearted  whig  and  rebel !  and  be  thankful  that  you  didn’t  come  tb 
your  end  by  the  help  of  hemp  !”  and  in  this  gust  of  passion  he 
struck  his  knife  into  the  bosom  of  the  trooper,  who  groaned,  stag¬ 
gered,  and  fell. 

At  this  moment  the  person  bearing  the  fire,  hearing  the  groan 
of  his  comrade,  rushed  up  to  the  spot  and  seized  Habershaw’s 
arm,  just  as  the  monster  was  raising  it  over  the  fallen  man  to 
repeat  the  blow. 

“  Damn  him  !  see  what  he  has  done  !”  exclaimed  the  captain, 
as  he  lifted  up  the  dead  body  of  the  dog  so  as  to  show  in  the 
light  the  wound  inflicted  by  the  ball  between  the  eyes ;  “  this 
poor,  faithful,  dumb  beast  was  worth  a  hundred  such  hell-hounds 
as  he  !” 

“  I  am  murdered,”  said  the  wounded  man  ;  “  I  am  murdered  in 
cold  blood.” 

The  noise  at  this  place  brought  together  the  rest  of  the  hunters, 
who  were  now  returning  with  the  buck  thrown  across  a  horse  that 
had  been  led  by  one  of  the  party.  Blake’s  wound  was  examined 
by  them,  and  some  linen  applied  to  staunch  the  blood.  The  man 
had  fainted,  but  it  was  not  ascertained  whether  the  stab  was 
mortal.  Habershaw  stood  sullenly  looking  on  during  the  exami¬ 
nation,  and,  finding  that  life  had  not  instantly  fled,  he  coolly  wiped 
his  knife  and  restored  it  to  his  girdle. 

“  The  fellow  has  no  idea  of  dying,”  he  said  with  a  visible  con¬ 
cern,  “  and  has  got  no  more  than  he  deserves.  He  will  live  to  be 
hung  yet.  Take  him  to  quarters.” 

“  Make  a  hurdle  for  him,”  said  one  of  the  bystanders,  and,  ac¬ 
cordingly,  two  men  cut  a  few  branches  from  the  neighboring  wood, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


213 


and  twisting  them  together,  soon  constructed  a  litter  upon  which 
they  were  able  to  bear  the  body  of  the  wounded  hunter  to  the 
rendezvous.  The  others,  scarcely  uttering  a  word  as  they  marched 
along,  followed  slowly  with  the  buck,  and  in  half  an  hour  the 
troop  was  once  more  assembled  under  the  chestnut. 

For  a  time  there  was  a  sullen  and  discontented  silence  amongst 
the  whole  crew,  that  was  only  broken  by  the  groans  of  the  wound¬ 
ed  trooper.  Occasionally  there  was  a  slight  outburst  of  sedition 
from  several  of  the  troop,  as  a  sharper  scream,  indicating  some 
sudden  increase  of  pain,  from  Gideon  Blake,  assailed  their  ears. 
Then  there  were  low  and  muttered  curses  pronounced  by  Haber- 
shaw,  in  a  tone  that  showed  Ins  apprehension  of  some  vengeance 
against  himself ;  and  these  imprecations  were  mingled  with  hints 
of  the  disloyalty  of  the  trooper,  and  charges  of  a  pretended  pur¬ 
pose  to  betray  his  fellow-soldiers,  evidently  insinuated  by  the  cap¬ 
tain  to  excuse  his  act  of  violence.  Then  he  approached  the  sick 
man  and  felt  his  pulse,  and  examined  his  wound,  and  pronounced 
the  hurt  to  be  trifling.  “  It  will  do  him  good,”  he  said,  with  af¬ 
fected  unconcern,  “  and  teach  him  to  be  moi-e  true  to  his  comrades 
hereafter.”  But  still  the  fate  of  the  man  was  manifestly  doubtful, 
and  the  rising  exasperation  of  the  troop  became  eveiy  instant 
more  open.  Alarmed  and  faint-hearted  at  these  symptoms  of  dis¬ 
content,  Habershaw  at  last  called  the  men  into  a  circle  and  made 
them  a  speech,  in  which  he  expressed  his  sorrow  for  the  act  he 
had  committed,  endeavored  to  excuse  himself  by  the  plea  of  pas¬ 
sion  at  the  loss  of  his  dog,  and,  finally,  perceiving  that  these  ex¬ 
cuses  did  not  satisfy  his  hearers,  acknowledged  his  drunken  condi¬ 
tion  and  his  unconsciousness  of  the  deed  he  had  done  until  the 
liorrible  consequences  of  it  were  before  his  eyes.  Here  Pep¬ 
percorn  interposed  in  his  favor,  alleging  that  he  had  examined 
the  wound,  and  that,  in  his  opinion,  the  trooper’s  life  was  not  in 
danger. 

“  And  as  the  captain  is  sorry  for  it,  lads,”  he  concluded,  “  why, 
what  is  to  be  done  but  let  the  thing  drop  ?  So,  if  there’s  another 
canteen  in  the  squad,  we  will  wet  our  whistles,  boys,  and  go  to 
sleep.” 

This  appeal  was  effectual,  and  was  followed  by  a  hearty  cheer. 
So,  draining  the  dregs  of  the  last  flask,  this  debauched  company 


214 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


retired  to  rest — Habei’shaw  sneaking  away  from  them  with  a  heart 
loaded  with  malice  and  revenge. 

A  few  men  were  employed,  for  a  short  time,  in  buiying  the 
bodies  of  the  troopers  who  were  killed  in  the  fray ;  and,  excepting 
the  guard,  who  busied  themselves  in  skinning  the  buck  and  broil¬ 
ing  some  choice  slices  before  the  fire,  and  in  watching  the  prison¬ 
ers,  or  attending  upon  their  sick  comrade,  all  were  sunk  into 
silence  if  not  repose. 


« 


CHAPTER  XVIir. 


THE  TROOPERS  MOVE  WITH  THEIR  PRISONERS. 

“  Oft  he  that  doth  abide, 

Is  cause  of  his  own  paine, 

But  he  that  fiieth  in  good  tide, 

Perhaps  may  fight  again.’*— O/d  Proverb. 

It  was  with  the  most  earnest  sohcitude  that  Butler  and  his  com¬ 
panion  Avatched  the  course  of  events,  and  became  acquainted  with 
the  character  of  the  ruffians  into  whose  hands  they  had  fallen. 
The  presence  of  James  Curry  in  tliis  gang  excited  a  painful  con¬ 
sciousness  in  the  mind  of  the  soldier,  that  he  had  powerful  and 
seciet  enemies  at  work  against  him,  but  who  they  were  was  an  im¬ 
penetrable  mystery.  Then  the  lawless  habits  of  the  people  who 
had  possession  of  him,  gave  rise  to  the  most  anxious  distrust  as  to 
his  futuie  fate ;  he  might  be  murdered  in  a  fit  of  passion,  or  tor¬ 
tured  with  harsh  treatment  to  gratify  some  concealed  malice.  His 
position  in  the  army  was,  it  seemed,  known  too ;  and,  for  aught 
that^  he  could  tell,  his  mission  might  be  no  secret  to  his  captors. 
Robinson’s  sagacity  entered  fully  into  these  misgivings.  He  had 
narrowly  observed  the  conduct  of  the  party  who  had  made  them 
piisoneis,  and  with  that  acute  insight  which  was  concealed  under  a 
rude  and  uneducated  exterior,  but  which  was  strongly  marked  in 
his  actions,  he  had  already  determined  upon  the  course  which  the 
safety  of  Butler  required  him  to  pursue.  According  to  his  view  of 
their  present  difficulties  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should 
effect  his  escape,  at  whatever  personal  hazard.  Butler,  he  rightly 
conjectured,  was  the  principal  object  of  the  late  ambuscade  ;  *that, 
for  some  unknown  puriwse,  the  possession  of  this  officer  became 
important  to  tliose  who  had  procured  the  attack  upon  him,  and 
that  James  Cuny  had  merely  hired  this  gang  of  desperadoes  to 
secure  the  prize.  Under  these  circumstances,  he  concluded  that 


216 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


the  Major  would  he  so  strictly  guarded  as  to  forbid  all  hope  of 
escape,  and  that  any  attempt  by  him  to  effect  it  would  only  be 
punished  by  certain  death.  But,  in  regard  to  himself,  his  calculation 
was  different.  “  First,”  said  he,  “  I  can  master  any  three  of  this 
beggarly  crew  in  an  open  field  and  fair  fight;  and,  secondly,  when 
it  comes  to  the  chances  of  a  pell-mell,  they  will  not  think  me  of 
so  much  account  as  to  risk  their  necks  by  a  long  chase ;  their 
whole  eyes  would  ondoubtedly  be  directed  to  the  Major.”  The 
sergeant,  therefore,  determined  to  make  the  attempt,  and,  in  the 
event  of  his  success,  to  repair  to  Sumpter,  who  he  knew  frequented 
some  of  the  fastnesses  in  this  region ;  or,  in  the  alternative,  to 
rally  such  friends  from  the  neighboring  country  as  were  not  yet 
overawed  by  the  Tory  dominion,  and  bring  them  speedily  to  the 
rescue  of  Butler.  Full  of  these  thoughts,  he  took  occasion  during 
the  night,  whilst  the  guard  were  busy  in  cooking  their  venison, 
and  whilst  they  thought  him  and  his  comrade  wrapt  in  sleep,  to 
whisper  to  Butler  the  resolution  he  had  adopted. 

“  I  will  take  the  first  chance  to-morrow  to  make  a  dash  upon 
these  ragamuffins,”  he  said  ;  “  and  I  shall  count  it  hard  if  I  don’t 
get  out  of  their  claws.  Then,  rely  upon  me,  I  shall  keep  near 
you  in  spite  of  these  devils.  So  be  prepared,  if  I  once  get  away, 
to  see  me  like  a  witch  that  travels  on  a  broomstick  or  creeps 
through  a  keyhole.  But  whisht !  the  drunken  vagabonds  mustn’t 
hear  us  talking.” 

Butler,  after  due  consideration  of  the  sergeant’s  scheme,  thought 
it,  however  perilous,  the  only  chance  they  had  of  extricating  them¬ 
selves  from  the  dangers  with  which  they  were  beset,  and  promised 
the  most  ready  co-operation  ;  determining  also,  to  let  no  oppor¬ 
tunity  slip  which  might  be  improved  to  his  own  deliverance. 
“  Your  good  arm  and  bra'^’e  heart,  Galbraith,  never  stood  you  in 
more  urgent  stead  than  they  may  do  to-morrow,”  was  his  conclud¬ 
ing  remark. 

When  morning  broke  the  light  of  day  fell  upon  a  strange  and 
disordered  scene.  The  drunken  and  coarse  wretches  of  the  night 
before,  now  lessened  in  number  and  strength  by  common  broil  and 
private  quarrel,  lay  stretched  on  their  beds  of  leaves.  Their  mot¬ 
ley  and  ill-assorted  weapons  lay  around  in  disarray  ;  drinking  cups 
and  empty  flasks  were  scattered  over  the  trodden  grass,  the  skin 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


21Y 


and  horns  of  the  buck,  and  disjointed  fragments  of  raw  flesh  were 
seen  confusedly  cast  about  beneath  the  tree,  and  a  conspicuous  ob¬ 
ject  in  the  scene  were  the  clots  of  blood  and  gore,  both  of  men 
and  beast,  that  disfigured  the  soil.  Two  new-made  graves,  or 
rather  mounds,  hastily  scratched  together  and  imperfectly  conceal¬ 
ing  the  limbs  of  the  dead,  prominently  placed  but  a  few  feet  from 
the  ring  of  last  night’s  revelry,  told  of  the  disasters  of  the  fight  at 
the  ford.  The  brushwood  fire  had  burned  down  into  a  heap  of 
smouldering  ashes,  and  the  pale  and  sickly  features  of  the  wounded 
trooper  were  to  be  discerned  upon  a  pallet  of  leaves,  hard  by  the 
heap  of  embers,  surrounded  by  the  remnants  of  bones  and  roasted 
meat  that  had  been  flung  carelessly  aside.  In  a  spot  of  more  ap¬ 
parent  comfort,  sheltered  by  an  overhanging  canopy  of  vines  and 
alder,  lay  Butler  stretched  upon  his  cloak,  and,  close  beside  him, 
the  stout  frame  of  Horse  Shoe  Robinson.  In  the  midst  of  all 
these  marks  of  recent  riot  and  carousal,  sat  two  swarthy  figures, 
haggard  and  wan  from  night-watching,  armed  at  every  point,  and 
keeping  strict  guard  over  the  prisoners. 

The  occasional  snort  and  pawing  of  hoi'ses  in  the  neighboring 
wood  showed  that  these  animals  were  alert  at  the  earliest  dawn ; 
M'hilst  among  the  first  who  seemed  aware  of  the  approach  of  day, 
was  seen  rising  from  the  earth,  where  it  had  been  flung  in  stupid 
torpor  for  some  hours,  the  bloated  and  unsightly  pemon  of  Hugh 
Ilabershaw,  now  much  the  worse  for  the  fatigue  and  revelry  of  the 
preceding  night.  A  savage  and  surly  expression  was  seated  on  his 
brow,  and  his  voice  broke  forth  more  than  ordinarily  harsh  and 
dissonant,  as  he  ordered  the  troop  to  rouse  and  prepare  for  their 
march. 

The  summons  was  tardily  obeyed ;  and  while  the  yawning 
members  of  the  squad  were  lazily  mqying  to  their  several  duties 
and  shaking  off  the  fumes  of  their  late  debauch,  the  captain  was 
observed  bending  over  the  prostrate  form  of  Gideon  Blake,  and 
directing  a  few  anxious  inquiries  into  his  condition.  The  wounded 
man  was  free  from  pain,  but  his  limbs  were  stiff,  and  the  region  of 
the  stab  sore  and  sensitive  to  the  least  touch.  The  indications, 
however,  were  such  as  to  show  that  his  wound  was  not  likely  to 
prove  mortal.  By  the  order  of  Habershaw,  a  better  litter  was 
constructed,  and  the  troopers  were  directed  to  bear  him,  by  turns, 

10 


218 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


as  far  as  Christie’s,  where  he  was  to  be  left  to  the  nursing  of  the 
family.  It  was  a  full  hour  before  the  horses  were  saddled,  the 
scattered  furniture  collected,  and  the  preparations  for  the  march 
completed.  When  these  were  accomplished  the  prisoners  were 
pro\dded  with  the  two  sorriest  horses  of  the  troop,  and  they  now 
set  forward  at  a  slow  pace,  under  the  escort  of  four  men  command¬ 
ed  by  James  Curry.  The  two  troopers  who  bore  the  sick  man  fol¬ 
lowed  on  foot ;  Habershaw  with  the  remainder,  one  of  whom  had 
appropriated  Captain  Peter,  whilst  he  led  the  horses  of  the  dis¬ 
mounted  men,  brought  up  the  rear. 

On  the  journey  there  was  but  little  spoken  by  any  member  of 
the  par-ty  ;  the  boisterous  and  rude  nature  of  the  men  who  com¬ 
posed  the  troop  seemed  to  have  been  subdued  by  sleep  into  a  tem¬ 
per  of  churlish  indifference  or  stolid  apathy.  Peppercorn,  or 
James  Curry,  as  the  reader  now  recognises  him,  strictly  preserved 
his  guard  over  the  prisoners,  manifesting  a  severity  of  manner 
altogether  different  from  the  tone  of  careless  revelry  which  charac¬ 
terized  his  demeanor  on  the  preceding  night.  It  never  relaxed 
fi'om  an  official  and  sullen  reserve.  A  moody  frown  sat  upon  his 
brow,  and  his  communication  with  the  prisoners  was  confined  to 
short  and  peremptory  commands ;  whilst,  at  the  same  time,  he 
forbade  the  slightest  intercourse  with  them  on  the  part  of  any  of 
the  guai'd.  During  the  short  progress  to  Christie’s  he  frequently 
rode  apart  with  Habershaw ;  and  the  conversation  which  then 
occupied  these  two  was  maintained  in  a  low  tone,  and  with  a  serious 
air  that  denoted  some  gr-ave  matter  of  deliberation. 

It  was  more  than  an  hour  after  sunrise  when  the  cavalcade 
reached  the  point  of  their  present  destination.  There  were  signs 
of  an  anxious  purpose  in  the  silence  of  the  journey,  broken  as  it 
was  only  by  low  mutterings  amongst  the  men,  above  which  some¬ 
times  arose  an  expression  of  impatience  and  discontent,  as  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  their  whispered  discussions  appeared  to  excite  some  angry 
Cibjection  from  several  of  the  party ;  and  this  mystery  was  not 
less  conspicuous  in  the  formal  order  of  the  halt,  and  in  the  pause 
that  followed  upon  their  arrival  at  the  habitation. 

The  house,  in  front  of  which  they  were  drawn  up,  was,  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  prevailing  fashion  of  the  time,  a  one-storied  dwelling 
covering  an  ample  space  of  ground,  built  partly  of  boards  and 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


219 


partly  of  logs,  witli  a  long  piazza  before  it,  terminating  in  small 
rooms,  made  by  inclosing  the  sides  for  a  few  feet  at  either 
extremity.  Being  situated  some  twenty  paces  aside  from  the  road, 
the  intervening  area  was  bounded  by  a  fence  through  which  a 
gate  afforded  admission.  A  horse-rack,  with  a  few  feeding  troughs, 
was  erected  near  this  gate ;  and  a  draw-well,  in  the  same  vicinity, 
furnished  a  ready  supply  of  water.  With  the  exception  of  a  cleared 
field  around  the  dwelling,  the  landscape  was  shaded  by  the  natural 
forest. 

A  consultation  of  some  minutes’  duration  was  held  between 
Habershaw  and  CuiTy,  when  the  order  to  dismount  was  given, 
accompanied  with  an  intimation  of  a  design  to  tarry  at  this  place 
for  an  hour  or  two  ;  but  the  men,  at  the  same  time,  were  directed 
to  leave  their  saddles  upon  their  horses.  One  or  two  were  detailed 
to  look  after  the  refreshment  of  the  cattle,  whilst  the  remainder 
took  possession  of  the  principal  room.  The  first  demands  of  the 
troop  were  for  drink,  and  this  being  indulged,  the  brute  feeling  of 
convivdality  which  in  gross  natures  depends  altogether  upon  sen¬ 
sual  excitement,  began  once  more  to  break  doM-n  the  barriers  of 
discipline,  and  to  mount  into  clamor. 

Tlie  scenes  of  the  morning  had  made  a  disagreeable  impression 
upon  the  feelings  of  Butler  and  his  comrade.  The  changed  tone 
and  the  ruffian  manners  of  the  band,  the  pause,  and  the  doubts 
which  seemed^to  agitate  them,  boded  mischief.  The  two  prisoners, 
however,  almost  instinctively  adopted  the  course  of  conduct  which 
their  circumstances  required.  They  concealed  all  apprehension  of 
harm,  and  patiently  awaited  the  end.  Horse  Shoe  even  took 
advantage  of  the  rising  mirth  of  the  com])any  when  drink  beg.an 
to  exhilarate  them,  and  affected  an  easy  tone  of  companionship 
which  was  calculated  to  throw  them  off  their  guard.  He  circu¬ 
lated  freely  amongst  the  men,  and  by  private  conference  with  some 
of  the  individuals  around  him,  who,  attracted  by  his  air  of  confid¬ 
ing  gaiety,  seemed  inclined  to  favor  his  approaches  of  familiarity, 
he  soon  discovered  that  the  gang  were  divided  in  sentiment  in 
regard  to  some  important  subject  touching  the  proposed  treatment 
of  himself  and**  his  friend.  A  party,  at  least,  he  was  thus  made 
aware,  were  disposed  to  take  his  side  in  the  secret  disputes  which 
had  been  in  agitation.  He  was  determined  to  profit  by  this  dissen- 


220 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


sioD,  and  accordingly  applied  himself  still  more  assiduously  to  cul¬ 
tivate  the  favorable  sentiment  he  found  in  existence. 

Whilst  breakfast  was  in  preparation,  and  Hahershaw  and 
Currjr  were  occupied  with  the  Avounded  man  in  an  adjoining  apart¬ 
ment,  the  sergeant,  playing  the  part  of  a  boon  companion,  laughed 
Avith  the  rioters,  and,  uninvited,  made  himself  free  of  their  cups. 

“  I  should  like  to  knoAv,”  he  said  to  one  of  the  troopers,  “  Avhy 
you  are  giAung  yourselves  all  this  trouble  about  a  couple  of  simple 
travellers  that  hajApened  to  be  jogging  along  the  road  ?  If  you 
wanted  to  make  a  pitched  battle  you  ought  to  have  sent  us  word ; 
but  if  it  was  only  upon  a  drinking  bout  you  had  set  your  hearts, 
there  Avas  no  occasion  to  be  breaking  heads  for  the  honor  of  getting 
a  good  fellow  in  your  company,  Avhen  he  would  have  come  of  his 
own  accord  at  the  first  axing'.  There  Avas  no  use  in  making  such 
a  mighty  secret  about  it ;  for,  as  we  Avere  travelling  the  same  road 
with  you,  you  had  only  to  show  a  man  the  ci-vility  of  saying  you 
wanted  our  escort,  and  you  should  have  had  it  at  a  word.  Here’s 
to  our  better  acquaintance,  friend  !” 

“  You  mightn’t  be  so  jolly.  Horse  Shoe  Kobinson,”  said  Shad 
Green — or,  according  to  his  nickname.  Red  Mug,  in  a  Avhispai- 
“■if  some  of  them  that  took  the  trouble  to  find  you,  should  have 
their  OAvn  Avay.  It’s  a  d— d  tight  pull  Avhether  you  are  to  be 
kept  as  a  prisoner  of  Avar,  or  shoved  under  ground  this  morning 
without  tuck  of  drum.  That  for  your  private  ear.” 

“  I  Avas  born  in  old  Carolina  myself,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  aside 
to  the  speaker ;  “  and  I  don’t  believe  there  is  many  men  to  be 
found  in  it  who  would  stand  by  and  see  the  rules  and  regulations 
of  honorable  war  blackened  and  trod  down  into  the  dust  by  any 
coAvardly  trick  of  murder.  If  it  comes  to  that,  many  as  there  are 
against  tAvo,  our  lives  Avill  not  go  at  a  cheap  price.” 

“  Whisht !”  returned  the  other,  “  with  my  alloAvance,  for  one,  it 
shan’t  be.  A  prisoner’s  a  prisoner,  I  say  ;  and  damnation  to  the 
man  that  would  make  him  out  Avorse.” 

“  They  say  you  are  a  merry  devil,  old  Horse  Shoe,”  exclaimed 
he  who  Avas  called  Boav  Legs,  Avho  noAV  stepped  up  and  slapped  the 
sergeant  on  the  back.  “  So  take  a  swig,  man ;  fair  play  is  a 
jeAvel ! — that’s  my  doctrine.  Fight  Avhen  you  fight,  and  drink 
when  you  drink — and  that’s  the  sign  to  know  a  man  by.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


221 


“  There  is  some  good  things,”  said  the  sergeant,  “  in  this  world 
that’s  good,  and  some  that’s  bad.  But  I  have  always  found  that 
good  and  had  is  so  mixed  up  and  jumbled  together,  that  you  don’t 
often  get  much  of  one  without  a  little  of  the  other.  A  sodger’s  a 
sodger,  no  matter  what  side  he  is  on ;  and  they  are  the  naturalest 
people  in  the  world  for  fellow-feeling.  One  day  a  man  is  up,  and 
then  the  laugh’s  on  his  side ;  next  day  he  is  down,  and  then  the 
laugh’s  against  him.  So,  as  a  sodger  has  more  of  these  ups  and 
downs  than  other  folks,  there’s  the  I'eason  his  heart  is  tenderer 
towards  a  comradethan  other  people’s.  Here’s  your  health,  sir. 
This  is  a  wicked  world,  and  twisted,  in  a  measure,  upside  down ; 
and  it  is  well  known  that  evil  communications  corrupts  good 
manners  ;  hut  sodgers  were  made  to  set  the  world  right  again,  on 
its  legs,  and  to  presarve  good  breeding  and  Christian  charity. 
So  there’s  a  sarmon  for  you,  you  tinkers !” 

“  Well  done,  mister  preacher !”  vociferated  a  prominent  reveller. 
“  If  you  will  desert  and  enlist  with  us  you  shall  he  the  chaplain 
of  the  troop.  We  want  a  good  swearing,  drinking,  and  tearing 
blade  who  can  hold  a  discourse  over  his  liquor,  and  fence  with  the 
devil  at  long  words.  You’re  the  very  man  for  it !  Huzza  for  the 
blacksmith  !” 

“  Huzza  for  the  blacksmith !”  shouted  several  others  in  the 
apartment. 

Butler,  during  this  scene,  had  stretched  himself  out  at  full 
length  upon  a  bench,  to  gain  some  rest  in  his  present  exhausted 
and  uncomfortable  condition,  and  was  now  partaking  of  the 
refreshment  of  a  howl  of  milk  and  some  coarse  bread,  which  one 
of  the  troopers  had  brought  him. 

"  What’s  all  this  laughing  and  uproar  about  ?”  said  Habershaw, 
entering  the  room  with  Curry,  just  at  the  moment  of  the  acclama¬ 
tion  in  favor  of  the  sergeant  “  Is  this  a  time  for  your  cursed  wide 
throats  to  be  braying  like  asses !  We  have  business  to  do.  And 
you,  sir,”  said  he,  turning  to  Butler,  “  you  must  be  taking  up  the 
room  of  a  half  dozen  men  on  a  bench  with  your  lazy  carcase  !  Up, 
sir ;  I  allow  no  lolling  and  lying  about  to  rascally,  whigs  and  rebels. 
You  have  cost  me  the  death  of  a  dog  that  is  worth  all  your  filthy 
w'hig  kindred  ;  and  you  have  made  away  with  two  of  the  best  men 
that  ever  stept  in  shoe  leather.  Sit  up,  sir,  and  thank  your  luck 


222 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


that  you  haven’t  your  arms  pinioned  behind  you,  like  a  horse 
thief.” 

“  Insolent  coward,”  said  Butler,  springing  upon  his  feet ; 
“  hired  ruffian !  you  shall  in  due  time  be  made  to  pay  for  the 
outrage  you  have  inflicted  upon  me.” 

“  Tie  him  up  !”  cried  Habershaw  ;  “  tie  him  up  !  And  now  I 
call  jmu  all  to  bear  witness  that  he  has  brought  the  sentence  upon 
himself ;  it  shall  be  done  without  waiting  another  moment.  Harrv 
Gage,  I  give  the  matter  over  to  you.  Draw  out  four  men,  take 
them  into  the  yard,  and  dispatch  the  prisoners  olf-hand !  shoot 
the  traitors  on  the  spot,  before  we  eat  our  breakfasts !  I  was  a 
fool  that  I  didn’t  settle  this  at  daylight  this  morning — ^the  rascally 
filth  of  the  earth  !  Have  no  heart  about  it,  men  ;  but  make  sure 
work  by  a  short  distance.  This  is  no  time  for  whining.  When 
have  the  Whigs  shown  mercy  to  us !” 

“  It  shall  be  four  against  four,  then !”  cried  out  Shadrach 
Green,  seconded  by  Andrew  Clopper  ;  “  and  the  first  shot  that  is 
fired  shall  be  into  the  bowels  of  Hugh  Habershaw  !  Stand  by  me, 
boys !” 

In  a  moment  the  parties  were  divided,  and  had  snatched  up 
their  weapons,  and  then  stood  looking  angrily  at  each  other  as  if 
daring  each  to  commence  the  threatened  affray. 

“  Why,  how  now,  devil’s  imps  !”  shouted  Habershaw.  “  Have 
you  come  to  a  mutiny  ?  Have  you  joined  the  rebels  ?  James 
Curry,  look  at  this !  By  the  bloody  laws  of  war,  I  will  report 
every  rascal  who  dares  to  lift  his  hand  agamst  me  !” 

“  The  thing  is  past  talking  about,”  said  the  first  speaker,  coolly. 
“  Hugh  Habershaw,  neither  you  nor  James  Curry  sjiall  command 
the  peace  if  you  dare  to  ofi'er  harm  to  the  prisoners.  ’  How,  bully, 
report  that  as  my  saying.  They  are  men  fairly  taken  in  war,  and 
shall  suffer  no  evil  past  what  the  law  justifies.  Give  them  up  to 
the  officer  of  the  nearest  post — that’s  what  we  ask — carry  them  to 
Innis’s  camp  if  you  choose  ;  but  whilst  they  are  in  our  keeping 
there  shall  be  no  blood  spilled  without  mixing  some  of  your  own 
with  it,  Hugh  Habershaw.” 

“  Arrest  the  mutineers  !”  cried  Habershaw,  trembling  with  rage. 
“  Who  are  my  fiiends  in  this  room  ?  Let  them  stand  by  me,  and 
then — blast  me  if  I  don’t  force  obedience  to  my  orders  !” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


223 


“  You  got  off  by  the  skin  of  your  teeth  last  night,”  said  Green, 
“  when  you  tried  to  take  the  life  of  Gideon  Blake.  For  that  you 
deserved  a  bullet  through  your  skull.  Take  care  that  you  don’t 
get  your  reckoning  this  morning,  cajitain  and  all  as  you  are.” 

“  What  in  the  devil  would  you  have  ?”  inquired  Habershaw, 
stricken  into  a  more  cautious  tone  of  speech  by  the  decided  bear¬ 
ing  of  the  man  opposed  to  him.  . 

“  The  safety  of  the  prisoners  until  they  are  delivered  to  the 
commander  of  a  regular  post ;  we  have  resolved  upon  that!”  was 
the  reply. 

“  Curry !”  said  Habershaw,  turning  in  some  perplexity  to  the 
dragoon  as  if  for  advice. 

“  Softly,  Captain ;  we  had  better  have  a  parley  here,”  said 
Curry,  who  then  added  in  a  whisper  :  “  There’s  been  some  damned 
bobbery  kicked  up  here  by  the  blacksmith.  This  comes  of  giving 
that  fellow  the  privilege  of  talking.” 

“  A  word,  men,”  interposed  Horse  Shoe,  who  during  this  interval 
had  planted  himself  near  Butler,  and  with  him  stood  ready  to  act 
as  the  emergency  might  require.  “  Let  me  say  a  word.  This 
James  Curry  is  my  man.  Give  me  a  broadsword  and  a  pair  of 
pistols,  and  I  will  pledge  the  hand  and  word  of  a  sodger,  upon 
condition  that  I  am  allowed  five  minutes’  parole,  to  have  a  jiass, 
here  in  the  yard,  with  him — it  shall  be  in  sight  of  the  whole 
squad — I  pledge  the  word  of  a  sodger  to  deliver  myself  back  again 
to  the  guard,  dead  or  alive,  without  offering  to  take  any  chance  to 
make  ofl’  in  the  meantime.  Come,  James  Curry,  yom’  word  to 
the  back  of  that,  and  then  buckle  on  your  sword,  man.  I  heard 
your  whisper.” 

“  Soldiers,”  said  Curry,  stepping  into  the  circle  w'hich  the  party 
had  now  formed  round  the  room,  “  let  me  put  in  a  word  as  a 
peace-maker.  Captain  Habei’shaw  won’t  be  unreasonable.  I  will 
vouch  for  him  that  he  will  fulfil  your  wish  regarding  the  convey¬ 
ing  of  the  prisoners  to  a  regular  post.  Come,  come,  let  us  have 
no  brawling  !  For  shame  !  put  dowm  your  guns.  There  may  be 
reason  in  what  you  ask,  although  it  isn’t  so  much  against  the 
fashion  of  the  times  to  shoot  a  Whig  either.  But  anything  for  the 
sake  of  quiet  amongst  good  fellows.  Be  considerate,  noble  captain, 
and  do  as  the  babies  wish.  As' for  Horse  Shoe’s  brag — he  is  an 


224 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


old  soldier,  and  so  am  I ;  tliat’s  enongh.  We  are  not  so  green  as 
to  put  a  broadsword  and  a  brace  of  pistols  into  tbe  bands  of  a 
bullying  prisoner.  No,  no.  Horse  Shoe  !  try  another  trick,  old 
boy  !  Ha,  ha,  lads  !  you  are  a  set  of  fine  dashing  chaps,  and  this 
is  only  one  of  your  madcap  bits  of  spunk  that  boils  up  with  your 
liquor.  Take  another  cup  on  it,  my  merry  fellows,  and  all  will  be 
as  pleasant  as  the  music  of  a  fife.  Come,  valiant  Captain  of  the 
Tiger,  join  us.  And  as  for  the  prisoners — why  let  them  come  in 
for  snacks  with  us.  So  there’s  an  end  of  the  business.  All  is  as 
mild  as  new  milk  again.” 

“  Well,  well,  get  your  breakfasts,”  said  Habershaw  gruffly. 
“  Blast  you  !  I  have  spoiled  you  by  good  treatment,  you  ungrate¬ 
ful,  carnivorous  dogs  !  But,  as  Peppercorn  says,  there’s  an  end  of 
it !  So  go  to  your  feeding,  and  when  that’s  done  we  w'ill  push  for 
Blackstock’s.” 

The  morning  meal  was  soon  despatched,  and  the  party  reas¬ 
sembled  in  the  room  where  the  late  disturbance  had  taken  place. 
The  good-nature  of  Eobinson  continued  to  gain  upon  those  w'ho 
had  first  taken  up  his  cause,  and  even  brought  him  into  a  more 
lenient  consideration  with  the  others.  Amongst  the  former  I  have 
already  noted  Andrew  Clojrper,  a  rough  and  insubordinate  mem¬ 
ber  of  the  gang,  who,  vexed  by  some  old  grudge  against  the  fat 
captain,  had  efficiently  sustained  Green  in  the  late  act  of  mutiny, 
and  who  now,  struck  with  Horse  Shoe’s  bold  demeanor  towards 
Curry,  began  to  evince  manifest  signs  of  a  growing  regard  for  the 
worthy  sergeant.  With  this  man  Horse  Shoe  contrived  to  hold  a 
short  and  secret  interview  that  resulted  in  the  quiet  transfer  of  a 
jnece  of  gold  into  the  freebooter’s  hand,  which  was  received  with  a 
significant  nod  of  assent  to  whatever  proposition  accompanied  it. 
AVhen  the  order  of  “  boot  and  saddle  ”  was  given  by  Habershaw', 
the  several  members  of  the  troop  repaired  to  their  horses,  where  a 
short  time  rvas  spent  in  making  ready  for  the  march  ;  after  which 
tho  w'hole  squad  returned  to  the  porch  and  occupied  the  few  mo¬ 
ments  of  delay  in  that  loud  and  boisterous  carousal  which  is  apt  to 
mark  the  conduct  of  such  an  ill-organized  body  in  the  interval 
immediately  preceding  the  commencement  of  a  day’s  ride.  This 
was  a  moment  of  intense  interest  to  the  sergeant,  who  kept  his 
eyes  steadily  fixed  upon  the  movements  of  Clopper,  as  that  indi- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


225 


vidual  lingered  behind  his  comrades  in  the  equipment  of  his  horse. 
This  ‘solicitude  did  not,  however,  arrest  his  seeming  mirth,  as  he 
joined  in  the  rude  jests  of  the  company  and  added  some  sallies  of 
his  own. 

“  Give  me  that  cup,”  he  said  at  length,  to  one  of  the  men,’  as 
he  pointed  to  a  gourd  on  a  table  ;  “  before  we  start  I  have  a  notion 
to  try  the  strength  of  a  little  cold  water,  just  by  way  of  physic, 
after  all  the  liquor  we  have  been  drinking,”  and,  having  got  the 
implement  in  his  hand,  he  walked  deliberately  to  the  draw-well, 
where  he  dipped  up  a  draught  from  the  bucket  that  stood  on  its 
brink.  As  he  put  the  water  to  his  lips  and  turned  his  back  upon 
the  company,  he  was  enabled  to  take  a  survey  of  the  horses  that 
were  attached  to  the  rack  near  him  :  then,  suddenly  throwing  the 
gourd  from  him,  he  sprang  towards  his  own  trusty  steed,  leaped 
into  his  saddle  at  one  bound,  and  sped,  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow, 
upon  the  highway.  This  exploit  was  so  promptly  achieved  that 
no  one  was  aware  of  the  sergeant’s  purpose  until  he  was  some 
twenty  paces  upon  his  journey.  As  soon  as  the  alarm  of  his  flight 
was  spread,  some  three  or  four  rifles  were  fired  after  him  in  rapid 
succession,  during  which  he  was  seen  ducking  his  head  and  moving 
it  from  side  to  side  with  a  view  to  baffle  the  aim  of  the  marksmen. 
The  confusion  of  the  moment  in  which  the  volley  was  given  ren¬ 
dered  it  ineffectual,  and  the  sergeant  was  already  past  the  first 
danger  of  his  escape. 

“  To  horse  and  follow  !”  resounded  from  all  sides. 

“  Look  to  the  other  prisoner !”  roared  out  Ilabershaw  ;  “  if  he 
raises  his  head  blow  out  his  brains  !  Follow,  boys,  follow  !” 

“  Two  or  three  of  you  come  with  me,”  cried  Curry,  and  a  couple 
of  files  hastened  with  the  dragoon  to  their  horses.  Upon  arriving 
at  the  rack  it  was  discovered  that  the  bridles  of  the  greater  part 
of  the  troop  were  tied  in  hard  knots  in  such  a  manner  as  to  con¬ 
nect  each  two  or  three  horses  together. 

A  short  delay  took  place  whilst  the  horsemen  were  disentangling 
their  reins,  and  Curry,  being  the  first  to  extricate  his  steed,  mount¬ 
ed  and  set  oft'  in  rapid  pursuit.  He  was  immediately  followed  by 
two  others. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  the  two  privates  returned  and  re¬ 
ported  that  they  had  been  unable  to  obtain  a  Uew  of  the  sergeant 

10* 


226 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


or  even  of  Curiy.  Shortly  afterwards  the  dragoon  himself  was 
descried  retracing  his  steps  at  a  moderate  trot  towards  the  house. 
His  plight  told  a  tale  upon  him  of  discomfiture.  One  side  of  his 
face  was  bleeding  with  a  recent  bruise,  his  dress  disarranged  and 
his  back  covered  with  dust.  The  side  of  his  horse  also  bore  the 
same  taint  of  the  soil. 

He  rode  up  to  Habershaw — who  was  already  upon  the  road  at 
the  head  of  the  remaining  members  of  the  squad,  having  Butler 
in  charge — and  informed  him  that  he  had  pursued  the  sergeant  at 
full  speed  until  he  came  in  sight  of  him,  when  the  fugitive  had 
slackened  his  gait  as  if  on  purpose  to  allow  himself  to  be  overtaken. 

“  But,  the  devil  gvip  the  fellow  !”  he  added,  “  he  has  a  broad¬ 
side  like  a  man-of-war !  In  my  hurry  I  left  my  sword  behind  me, 
and,  when  I  came  up  with  him,  I  laid  my  hand  upon  his  bridle  ; 
but,  by  some  sudden  sleight  which  he  has  taught  his  horse,  he 
contrived,  somehow  or  other,  to  upset  me^ — horse  and  all — down  a 
bank  on  the  road-side.  And,  when  I  lay  on  the  ground  sprawling, 
do  you  think  the  jolly  runagate  didn’t  rein  up  and  give  me  a  broad 
laugh,  and  ask  me  if  he  could  be  of  any  sarvice  to  me  ?  He  then 
bade  me  good  bye,  saying  he  had  an  engagement  that  prevented, 
him  from  favoring  me  any  longer  with  his  company.  Gad !  it 
was  so  civilly  done  that  all  I  could  say  was,  luck  go  with  you,  Mr. 
Horse  Shoe  ;  and,  since  we  are  to  part  company  so  soon,  may  the 
devil  pad  your  saddle  for  you  !  I’ll  do  him  the  justice  to  say  that 
he’s  a  better  horseman  than  I  took  him  for.  I  can  hardly  be¬ 
grudge  a  man  his  liberty  who  can  win  it  as  cleverly  as  he  has 
done.” 

“  Well,  there’s  no  more  to  be  said  about  it,”  remarked  Haber¬ 
shaw.  “  He  is  only  game  for  another  day.  He  fs  like  a  bear’s 
cub  ;  which  is  as  much  as  to  signify  that  he  has  a  hard  time  before 
him.  He  would  have  only  given  us  trouble ;  so  let  him  go. 
Now,  boys,  away  for  Blackstock’s  ;  I  will  engage  I  keep  the  fox 
that’s  left  safely  enough.” 

With  these  words  the  troop  proceeded  upon  then'  march. 


I 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Horse  Shoe’s  successful  escape  from  the  hands  of  the  Tories,  it 
will  he  conjectured,  had  been  aided  by  Clopper.  The  sergeant 
had  sufficiently  assured  himself  of  the  present  safety  of  Butler,  from 
the  spirit  with  which  a  strong  party  of  Habershaw’s  followers  had 
resisted  the  bloody  purpose  of  their  leader  before  breakfast ;  and 
he  had  also,  by  the 'timely  reward  secretly  conveyed  to  Clopper, 
received  a  pledge  from  that  individual  that  the  same  protection 
should  still  he  accorded  to  the  major,  in  the  event  of  his  own 
extrication  from  the  gang  by  the  perilous  exploit  which  he  then^ 
meditated.  It  is  no  doubt  apparent  to  the  reader,  that  the  favor 
which  saved  the  lives  of  the  prisoners  was  won  from  the  captors 
by  the  address  of.  Robinson,  and  that  whatever  good  wffl,  was 
kindled  up  amongst* ^m,  was  appropriated  principally  to  ttf&«a:- 
geant,  Butler  having  elicited  but  little  consideration  from  th^ 
band,  beyond  that  interest  which  the  roughest  men  are  apt  to  * 
take  in  the  fortunes  of  a  youijg  and  enterprising  soldier.  Neither : 
the  major’s  manners  nor  temper  were  adapted  to  conciliate  any^ 
special  regard  from  such  natures. 

The  escape  of  the  sergeant,  therefore,  although  it  added  nothing 
to  the  perils  of  Butler’s  situation,  still  operated  in  some  degree  to 
his  present  inconvenience.  It  caused  him  to  be  more  rigorously 
guarded  than  before,  and  consequently  to  be  more  restricted  in 
his  personal  comfort.  He  was  hurried  forward  at  a  rough  and  - 
uneasy  pace  ;  and  both  from  Habershaw  and  Curry,  and  those 
more  immediately  of  their  party,  he  experienced  a  surly  indifference 
to  the  pain  that  this  'occasioned  him.  They  seemed  to  have  no 
regard  either  to  his  wants  or  feelings,  and  in  the  passing  remarks 
that  fell  from  them  he  could  gather  harsh  surmises  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  he  was  now  likely  to  be  disposed  of. 

“  It  is  their  own  fault,”  said  one  of  them  to  his  companion,  as 
Butler  overheard  the  conversation ;  “  if  every  prisoner  is  strung 


228 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


up  and  shot  nowadays.  He  makes  no  more  of  hanging  our 
people  than  so  many  wolves  ;  and  there  was  Captain  Huck — will 
any  man  say  that  Sumpter  hadn’t  him  murdered  in  cold  blood  ?” 

“  Yes,”  added  the  other,  “  let  a  Tory  be  caught  over  yonder 
amongst  the  Iredell  Whigs,  on  t’other  side  of  the  line,  or  in  Tryon, 
or  down  here  at  the  Waxhaws,  why,  a  grey  fox  in  a  barn  yard 
with  forty  dogs  would  have  as  good  a  chance  for  his  life.  So,  for 
my  share,  I  am  glad  to  see  our  folks  break  up  that  blasted  breed, 
root  and  branch.” 

“  Innis  has  got  as  keen  a  nose  for  a  Whig  as  a  blood-hound,” 
said  the  first  speaker,  “  and  won’t  stop  long  to  consider  what’s 
right  to  be  done,  if  he  gets  this  chap  in  his  clutches ;  so  it  is  of  no 
great  account  that  we  didn’t  make  short  work  of  it  this  morning.” 

Such  remarks  produced  a  gloomy  effect  upon  Butler’s  mind. 
He  had  witnessed  enough,  in  the  scenes  of  the  morning,  to  con¬ 
vince  him  that  Habershaw  had  been  employed  to  -waylay  him  and 
take  his  life,  and  that  the  latter  purpose  had  only  failed  by  the 
lucky  conjuncture  of  circumstances  which  led  to  the  mutiny.  He 
was  aware,  too,  that  Curry  was  the  prime  conductor  of  the 
scheme,  and  drove  matters,  by  a  secret  influence,  as  far  as  he 
could  towards  its  accomplishment,  whilst  rvith  a  professional  hardi¬ 
hood  and  most  hypocritical  bearing  he  affected  to  be  indifferent  to 
the  issue.  This  fellow’s  malice  was  the  more  venomous  from  his 
address,  and  the  gay,  swaggering,  remorseless  levity  with  Avhich  he 
could  mask  the  most  atrocious  designs  :  nothing  could  baffle  his 
equanimity,  and  he  seemed  to  be  provided,  at  all  times,  with  a  pre¬ 
sent  expedient  to  meet  the  emergency  of  his  condition. 

The  most  perplexing  feature  in  this  man’s  present  position  was 
his  recent  connexion  with  Tyrrel ;  a  fact  that  recurred  to 
Butler  with  many  alarming  doubts.  All  the  other  circumstances 
accompanying  Butler’s  condition,  at  this  moment,  were  subjects  of 
distressful  uncertainty.  Ignorant  of  the  place  to  which  he  was  to 
be  taken,  into  whose  hands  he  was  to  be  delivered,  how  he  was  to 
be  disposed  of,  he  could  only  anticipate  the  worst.  It  was  ob-vious 
that  his  journey  was  an  expected  one,  and  that  the  gang  who  held 
him  were  employed  by  persons  in  authority,  set  on,  no  doubt,  by 
the  agency  of  Tyrrel ;  but  where  was  he — and  who  was  he  ? — 
and  what  influence  could  he  bring  to  bear  against  his,  Butler’s 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


229 


life,  now  that  he  had  failed  in  his  bloody  purpose  of  lying  in  wait ; 
and  that  it  was  resolved  by  these  rnflSans,  who  had  in  part  only 
obeyed  his  behests,  to  deliver  their  prisoner  up  to  the  regular 
authorities  of  the  British  army  ?  The  mention  of  the  name  of 
Innis  by  one  of  the  troopers  was  not  calculated  to  allay  his  inquiet¬ 
ude.  This  person  he  knew  to  have  been  an  active  confederate 
and  eager  adviser  of  the  new  court,  lately  established  at  Charleston, 
to  promote  the  confiscation  of  the  estates  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Carolina  disaffected  to  the  royal  cause.  He  was,  besides,  a  zealous 
Tory  partisan,  and,  having  lately  joined  the  army,  was  now  in  com¬ 
mand  of  a  detachment  of  loyalists  on  the  Ennoree. 

Then,  again,  there  was  abundant  cause  of  anxiety  to  the  unfor¬ 
tunate  officer  ill  the  question  whether  Robinson  could  be  kept 
acquainted  with  his  condition,  or  even  of  the  place  to  which  he 
might  be  removed — and  if  acquainted  with  these  particulars,  whe¬ 
ther,  in  the  disturbed  state  of  the  country,  he  could  render  any 
service.  These  thoughts  all  contributed  to  sink  his  spirits. 

Notwithstanding  the  usual  assumed  levity  of  Curry,  he  had  now 
become  resentful  towards  Butler,  and  did  not  give  himself  the 
trouble  to  conceal  it.  His  manner  was  quick  and  unaccommo¬ 
dating,  showing  his  vexation  at  his  own  want  of  sagacity,  inferred 
by  the  successful  flight  of  Robinson.  Expressions  occasionally 
escaped  him  that  indicated  a  self-reproof  on  this  subject,  though 
they  were  partially  disguised  by  an  affected  undervaluing  of  the 
importance  of  having  such  a  prisoner,  so  long  as  he  retained  the 
custody  of  the  principal  object  of  the  enterprise.  But  the  con¬ 
sciousness  of  being  again  baffled  by  a  man  who  had  once  before 
obtained  the  mastery  over  him,  roused  his  pride  into  the  exhibi¬ 
tion  of  a  peevish  and  vindictive  demeanor.  In  this  temper  he 
seconded  the  brutal  disposition  of  Habershaw,  and  abandoned  the 
captive  officer  to  the  coarse  insults  of  those  who  exercised  control 
over  him.  There  was  some  mitigation  to  this  annoyance,  in  the 
reserved  and  partial  spirit  in  which  the  insurgent  party  of  the 
squad  manifested  some  slight  signs  of  good  will  towards  him.  An 
instance  of  this  spirit  was  afforded  in  a  passing  hint  conveyed  by 
Clopper,  on  one  occasion  when  the  troop  had  halted  to  water  their 
horses.  “  Wliatever  is  to  come  of  it,  after  we  give  you  up  to 
other  hands,”  he  said,  apart  to  Butler,  “  we  will  stick  to  the 


230 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


ground  we  Have  taken,  that  no  Harm  sHall  be  done  to  you  in  our 
keeping.” 

THe  day  was  intensely  Hot,  and  tHe  road,  over  wHicH  tHe  party 
travelled,  rugged  and  fatiguing ;  it  was,  tHerefore,  near  one 
o’clock  wHen  tHey  came  in  sigHt  of  tHe  Tiger,  a  rougH,  Hold,  im¬ 
petuous  stream  tHat  rusHed  over  an  almost  unHroken  Hed  of  rocks. 
On  tHe  opposite  Hank  was  Blackstocks,  a  rude  Hamlet  of  some  two 
or  tHree  Houses,  scattered  over  a  rugged  Hill-side — a  place  suHse- 
quently  rendered  famous  Hy  tHe  gallant  rejiulse  of  Tarleton  Hy 
Sumpter.  THe  troop  struck  into  a  narrow  ford,  and,  witH  some 
scramHling  amongst  tHe  rocks,  succeeded  in  crossing  tHe  stream ; 
tHey  tHen  galloped  rapidly  up  tHe  Hill,  towards  a  farm-House 
wHicH  seemed  to  He  tHe  principal  place  of  resort  for  tHe  people  of  tHe 
neig'HHorHood.  THe  approacH  of  tHe  party  of  cavalry  drew  to  tHe 
door  a  Hevy  of  women,  cHildren,  and  negroes,  wHo  stood  idly  gap¬ 
ing  at  tHe  spectacle ;  and,  in  addition  to  tHese,  a  detacHment  of 
militia,  consisting  of  Hetween  twenty  and  tliirty  men,  were  seen  to 
turn  out  and  form  a  line  in  front  of  tHe  House.  HaHersHaw,  witH 
an  air  of  magnified  importance.  Halted  opposite  tHis  detacHment, 
gave  a  few  prompt  orders  to  Curry  in  regard  to  tHe  disposition  of 
the  troop,  and  in  an  autHoritative  tone  of  command,  ordered  tHe 
oflicer  of  tHe  militia  to  detail  a  guard  for  tHe  safe  keeping  of  a 
prisoner  of  state.  THe  personage  addressed — a  tall,  ungainly,  and 
awkward  suHaltern — signified  His  acquiescence  witH  a  How,  and 
immediately  took  possession  of  Butler  Hy  seizing  tHe  rein  of  His 
Horse  and  leading  Him  to  one  side,  wHere  two  men,  armed  witH 
rifles,  placed  tHemselves  at  eitlier  stirrup.  HaHersHaw  now 
directed  His  men  to  aligHt,  accompanying  tHe  order  witH  a  caution 
tHat  tHe  prisoner  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  enter  tHe  House.  “  THe 
d — d  rascal,”  He  added,  “  sHall  not  play  tHe  trick  of  His  rebel  asso¬ 
ciate  :  no  more  privilege  of  going  into  bar-rooms,  and  lounging 
about  doors  !  See  tHe  man  stowed  away  in  tHe  barn  ;  and  tell  tHe 
sentinels  never  to  take  their  eyes  OS’  of  Him — do  you  Hear,  Heu- 
tenant  ?” 

“  You  may  depend  upon  my  look-out,”  repHed  the  lieutenant, 
with  a  flourish  of  a  Hacked  and  rusty  sword.  “  Men,  march  your 
prisoner  straight  to  the  barn.  Have  a  relief.  Corporal,  every  two 
Hours,  and  towards  night,  set  four  on  the  watch  at  a  time.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


231 


“  Look  to  it,  Lieutenant !”  shouted  Habershaw.  “  No  words, 
sir  :  do  your  duty !” 

And  having  thus  given  vent  to  his  own  high  opinion  of  himself, 
the  bulky  captain  withdrew  into  the  house. 

Butler  was  now  marched  into  a  large  log  barn,  in  one  corner  of 
which  an  armful  of  fodder,  or  dried  blades  of  Indian  corn,  were 
shaken  out  for  his  bed ;  and  this,  he  was  told,  was  to  be  his  prison 
until  other  orders  awaited  him.  The  guard,  consisting  of  two  sen¬ 
tinels,  were  stationed  on  the  inner  side  of  tlie  door,  having  the 
prisoner  immediately  under  their  eye  ;  and,  this  disposition  being 
completed,  the  officer  commanding  the  detachment  retired  to  mingle 
with  the  troopers  in  the  farm-house. 

Half  an  hour  had  scarcely  elapsed  after  the  arrival  of  the  troopers 
at  Blackstocks,  before  James  Curry  had  refreshed  himself  with  a 
hasty  meal,  and  had  his  horse  brought  to  the  door.  He  seemed 
bound  upon  some  urgent  mission. 

“  Captain  St.  Jermyn,  you  say,  left  this  at  sunrise  this  morning  ?” 
said  the  dragoon,  addressing  the  lieutenant  of  the  militia. 

“  He  did.  He  ivas  here  all  day  yesterday,  and  thought  he  should 
hear  from  you  last  night.” 

“  What  route  did  he  take  ?” 

“  To  Turnbull,  at  Ninety-Six.” 

“  Is  Turnbull  there  now,  think  you  ?” 

“  He  is,”  replied  the  lieutenant.  “  They  say  orders  have  gone 
up  from  Cornwallis  to  the  post  for  four  light  companies,  and  it  is 
expected  that  Captain  Campbell  is  now  on  his  way  with  them 
towards  Camden;  neither  Turnbull  nor  Cruger  would  leave  the  post.” 

“  I  have  heard  that  this  corps  was  marching  to  head-quarters. 
Are  you  sure  St.  Jermyn  is  not  with  Campbell  ?” 

“  He  said  nothing  about  it  yesterday,  but  I  think  he  wishes  to 
join  Colonel  Innis  with  the  loyalist  cavalry.” 

“  Where  is  Innis  ?”  inquired  Curry. 

“  Over  on  Ennoree,  about  two  miles  from  Musgrove’s  mill.” 

“  Humph  !”  said  Curry,  thoughtfully,  “  I  must  ride  to  the  gar¬ 
rison  at  Ninety-Six.  The  deidl  take  this  cantering  about  the  coun¬ 
try  !  I  have  had  more  than  enough  of  it.” 

And  saying  this,  the  dragoon  mounted  his  horse,  and  clapping 
spurs  to  the  restive  animal,  was  soon  out  of  sight. 


232 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


It  was  late  in  the  day  before  the  wants  of  Butler  were  attended 
to.  He  had  thrown  aside  his  coat,  from  the  oppressive  heat  of  the 
weather,  and,  placing  it  under  his  head  for  a  pillow,  had  fallen 
into  a  sleep,  from  which  he  was  awakened  by  a  summons  from  one 
of  the  sentinels  to  partake  of  food.  There  was  more  kindness 
apparent  in  the  demeanor  of  the  soldier  than  Butler  had  been 
accustomed  to  meet  from  the  persons  who  held  him  captive,  and  this 
chcumstance  won  upon  his  heart  and  induced  him  to  accept  with 
courtesy  the  proffered  attentions. 

“You  live  in  a  divided  country,  and  witness  much  to  make  a 
good  man  -wish  this  unhappy  war  was  at  an  end,”  said  Butler, 
after  he  had  eaten  of  the  provisions  placed  before  him. 

“  Lideed  we  do,  sir,”  replied  the  soldier,  “  and  it  is  enough  to 
make  a  man’s  heart  bleed  to  see  brothers  fighting  against  each 
other,  and  kindred  that  ought  to  hold  together  seeking  each  other’s 
lives.  Men  will  have,  and  ought  to  have  their  opinions,  sir  ;  but 
it  is  hardly  good  reason  for  treating  one  another  hke  savage  In¬ 
dians,  because  all  cannot  think  alike.” 

“  Do  you  live  in  this  neighborhood  ?”  inquired  Butler. 

“  Not  far  away,”  answered  the  man. 

“  You  are  married  ?” 

“  Yes,  and  have  six  children.” 

“  They  should  be  young,”  said  Butler,  “  judging  by  your  own  age.” 

“  Thank  God,  sir  !”  exclaimed  the  soldier,  with  fervor,  “  they 
are  young  1  And  I  would  pray  that  they  may  never  live  to  be 
old  if  these  wars  are  to  last.  No  father  can  count  upon  his  own 
child’s  living  in  harmony  with  him.  My  boys,  if  they  were  gi'own 
enough,  might  be  the  first  I  should  meet  in  battle.” 

“  Your  name,  ffiend  ?”  said  Butler. 

“  Bruce,”  replied  the  other. 

“  A  good  and  a  brave  name  ;  a  name  once  fiaendly  to  the  liber¬ 
ty  of  his  country.” 

“  Stop,  sir  !”  said  the  sentinel.  “  This  is  not  the  place  to  talk 
upon  questions  that  might  make  us  angry  with  each  other.  It  is 
a  name  still  friendly  to  the  liberty  of  his  country  ;  that  liberty  that 
suppoids  the  king  and  laws,  and  punishes  treason.” 

“  I  cannot  debate  with  you,”  replied  Butler ;  “  I  am  your 
prisoner.” 

\ 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


233 


“  I  am  a  man,”  said  the  soldier,  firmly,  “  and  would  not  take 
advantage  of  him  that  cannot  take  his  own  part ;  but  these  ques¬ 
tions,  sir,  are  best  dropped — they  have  made  all  the  provinces 
mad.  However,  I  do  not  blame  you,  sir ;  I  will  not  deny  that 
there  are  good  men  on  your  side.” 

“  And  on  yours,  doubtless,”  returned  Butler. 

“We  have  many  bad  ones,  sir,”  returned  the  soldier;  “and  as 
you  have  spoken  like  a  well-tempered  gentleman  to  me,  I  will  give 
you  a  friendly  hint.”  Here  the  sentinel  spoke  in  a  lowered  tone. 
“  Have  your  eyes  about  you  ;  these  men  are  none  of  the  best,  and 
would  think  but  little  of  taking  from  you  anything  of  value.  As 
you  slept,  just  now,  I  saw  a  golden  trinket  hanging  by  a  ribbon  in 
your  bosom.  You  arc  a  young  man,  sir,  and  a  soldier,  I  hear  ; 
this  may  be  some  present  from  your  lady,  as  I  guess  you  have  one. 
If  others  had  seen  it,  as  I  saw  it,  you  might  have  been  the  loser. 
That’s  all.” 

“  Thank  you,  honest  friend  !  from  my  heart,  I  thank  you  !”  re¬ 
plied  Butler  eagerly.  “  Oh,  God  !  that  bauble  is  a  consolation  to 
me  that  in  this  hour  I  would  not  part  with — no,  no !  Thank  you, 
friend,  a  thousand  times  !’^ 

“  Have  done,”  said  the  soldier,  “  and  in  future  be  more  careful. 
The  relief  is  coming  this  way.” 

And  the  sentinel,  taking  up  his  rifle,  repaired  to  his  post.  In  a 
few  moments  the  guard  was  changed,  and  those  lately  on  duty 
were  marched  to  the  dwelling-house. 

When  night  came  on  the  immediate  guard  around  Butler’s  per¬ 
son  was  doubled.  Some  few  comforts  were  added  to  his  forlorn 
prison  by  the  kindness  of  the  soldier  Bruce,  and  he  was  left  to 
pass  the  weary  hours  of  darkness  in  communion  with  his  own 
thoughts,  or  in  the  enjoyment  of  such  repose  as  his  unhappy  state 
of  thraldom  allowed.  If  the  agitation  of  his  spirit  had  permitted 
sleep,  there  were  but  few  moments  of  the  night  when  it  might 
have  been  indulged.  The  outbursts  of  revelry,  the  loud  and  bois¬ 
terous  laugh,  and  still  louder  oaths  of  the  party  who  occu])ied  the 
dwelling-house  near  at  hand,  showed  that  they  had  plunged  into 
their  usual  debauch,  and  now  caroused  over  their  frequently  filled 
cups ;  and  the  clamor  that  broke  upon  the  night  might  have 
baffled  the  slumbei's  of  a  mind  less  anxious  and  wakeful  than  his  own. 


234 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


The  part}'-  of  troopers  and  militia  sat  at  the  door  to  take  advan¬ 
tage  of  the  coolness  of  the  night,  and  as  they  plied  the  busy 
flagon,  and  with  heavy  draught  grew  more  noisy,  scarce  a  word 
fell  from  their  lips  that  was  not  distinctl}^  heard  by  Butler.  It 
was  with  intense  interest,  therefore,  that  he  listened  to  the  conver¬ 
sation  when  it  led  to  a  topic  that  greatly  concerned  himself ;  and 
that  he  might  not  alarm  the  suspicion  of  the  sjieakers  he  affected 
sleep. 

“  Sumpter  has  been  hovering  about  Ninety-Six,”  said  the  lieu¬ 
tenant  ;  “  and  if  one  could  believe  all  the  stories  that  are  told 
about  him,  he  must  be  a  full  cousin  at  least  to  a  certain  person 
that  it  wouldn’t  be  right  to  mention  in  respectable  company ;  for, 
by  the  accounts,  he  is  one  day  on  the  Wateree,  and  the  next, 
whoop  and  away  ! — and  there  he  is,  almost  over  at  Augusta.  It 
seems  almost  past  the  power  of  human  legs  for  a  mortal  man  to 
make  such  strides  as  they  tell  of  him.” 

“  Who  says  Sumpter  is  near  Ninety-Six  ?”  inquired  one  of  the 
party ;  “  I  can  only  say,  if  that’s  true,  he  is  a  ghost — that’s 
all.  Here’s  Harry  Turner  will  swear  that  he  saw  him,  day 
before  yesterday,  in  North  Carolina,  on  his  march  towards 
Burk.” 

“  Indeed  did  I,”  responded  Harry,  one  of  the  militia-men. 

“  There  is  no  mistake  about  it,”  ihtei’posed  the  lieutenant.  “  A 
vidette  of  Brown’s  came  scampering  through  here  this  morning, 
who  reported  the  news ;  and  the  man  had  good  right  to  know,  for 
he  saw  Cruger  yesterday,  who  told  him  all  about  it,  and  then  sent 
him  off  to  Wahab’s  plantation,  near  the  Catawba  fords,  for 
Hanger’s  rangers.  It  was  on  his  way  back  this  morning  that  he 
stopped  here  five  minutes,  only  to  give  us  warning  ?” 

“  This  is  only  some  story  that  your  dranken  head  has  been 
dreaming  about,  Gabriel,”  said  Habershaw.  “  There  is  not  a 
word  of  truth  in  it;  the  rangers  went  down  to  Camden  three  days 
ago.  A¥ho  saw  the  vidette  besides  yom-self?” 

“  The  whole  detachment,”  replied  the  lieutenant.  “  We  talked 
to  the  man  and  had  the  story  from  him — and  a  queer  fellow 
he  was — a  good  stout  chap  that  liked  to  have  been  caught  by  a 
pair  of  reconnoitring  Whigs,  a  few  miles  back  between  this  and 
Pacolet ;  they  pushed  him  up  to  the  saddleflaps.  But  you  must 


HORSK  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


235 


have  seen  him  yourself,  Captain  Ilabershaw ;  for  he  told  us  you 
were  on  the  road.” 

“  From  towards  Pacolet  1”  exclaimed  the  captain  with  surprise. 
“  We  saw  nobody  on  that  road.  When  did  the  man  arrive  ?  ” 

“  About  an  hour  before  you.  He  came  at  full  speed,  with  his 
horse — a  great,  black,  snorting  beast  seventeen  hands  high  at 
least — all  in  a  foam.  He  was  first  for  passing  by  without  stopping, 
but  we  challenged  him  and  brought  him  short  upon  his  haunches, 
and  then  he  told  us  he  was  in  a  hurry,  and  mustn’t  be  delayed.” 

“  What  kind  of  a  looking  man  was  he  ?”  inquired  Habershaw. 

“  A  jolly  fellow,”  replied  the  lieutenant :  “  almost  as  big  as  his 
horse.  A  good  civil  fellow,  too,  that  swigs  well  at  a  canteen.  He 
made  a  joke  of  the  matter  about  your  coming  up,  and  called  you 
old  Cat-o’-nine  tails — said  that  you  were  the  cat,  and  your  nine 
tag-rags  were  the  tails — ha,  ha  ha  !” 

“  Blast  the  bastard  !”  exclaimed  Habershaw ;  “  who  could  he 
be  ?” 

“  Why  we  asked  that,  but  he  roared  out  with  a  great  haw-haw 
— took  another  drink,  and  said  he  was  never  christened.” 

“You  should,  as  a  good  soldier,”  said  Habershaw,  “have  made 
him  give  his  name.” 

“  I  tried  him  again,  and  he  would  only  let  us  have  a  nickname ; 
he  told  us  then  that  he  was  called  Jack-o’-Lantern,  and  had  a 
special  good  stomach,  and  that  if  we  wanted  more  of  him  we  must 
give  him  a  snatch  of  something  to  eat.  Well,  we  did  so.  After  that, 
he  said  he  must  have  our  landlord’s  sword,  for  his  own  had  been 
torn  from  him  by  the  Whig  troopers  that  pushed  him  so  hard,  and 
that  the  bill  for  it  must  be  sent  to  Cruger.  So  he  got  the  old 
cheese-knife  that  used  to  hang  over  the  fire-place  and  strung  it 
across  his  shoulder.  He  laughed  so  hard,  and  seemed  so  good- 
natured,  that  there  was  no  doing  anything  with  him.  At  last  he 
mounted  his  horse  again,  just  stooped  down  and  whispered  in  my 
ear  at  parting,  that  he  was  an  old  friend  of  yours,  and  that  you 
could  tell  us  all  the  news,  and  away  he  went,  like  a  mad  bully, 
clinking  it  over  the  hill  at  twenty  miles  to  the  hour.”  • 

“  A  black  horse  did  you  say  ?”  inquired  Ilaber-shaw.  “  Had  he 
a  white  star  in  the  forehead,  and  the  two  hind  legs  white  below 
the  knee  ?” 


236 


HOKSE  SHOEROBINSON. 


“  Exactly,”  said  the  lieutenant  and  several  others  of  the 
party. 

“  It  was  Horse  Shoe  Robinson !”  exelaimed  Habershaw,  “  by  aU 
the  black  deHls  !” 

“  Horse  Shoe,  Horse  Shoe,  to  be  sure  !”  responded  half  a  dozen 
voices. 

“  He  was  a  famous  good  rider.  Horse  Shoe  or  anybody  else,” 
said  the  lieutenant. 

“  That  beats  all !”  said  one  of  the  troopers  ;  “  the  cunning  old 
fox !  He  told  the  truth  when  he  said  you  would  teU  the  news, 
captain  :  but  to  think  of  his  lies  getting  him  past  the  guard,  with 
a  sword  and  a  bellyfull  into  the  bargain  !” 

“  Why  didn’t  you  report  instantly  upon  our  arrival  ?”  asked 
Habershaw. 

“  Bless  you,”  replied  the  lieutenant,  “  I  never  suspicioned  him, 
more  than  I  did  you.  The  fellow  laughed  so  naturally  that  I 
would  never  have  thought  him  a  runaway.” 

“  There  it  is,”  said  Habershaw  ;  “  that’s  the  want  of  disciphne. 
The  service  vrill  never  thrive  till  these  loggerheads  are  taught  the 
rules  of  war.” 

Butler  had  heard  enough  to  satisfy  him  on  one  material  point, 
namely,  that  Robinson  had  secured  his  escape,  and  was  in  condi¬ 
tion  to  take  whatever  advantage  of  circumstances  the  times  might 
aflbrd  him.  It  was  a  consolation  to  him  also  to  know  that  the 
sergeant  had  taken  this  route,  as  it  brought  him  nearer  to  the  scene 
in  which  the  major  himself  was  likely  to  mingle.  With  this  dawn 
of  comfort  brightening  up  his  doubts,  he  addi-esssed  himself  more 
composedly  to  sleep,  and  before  daylight,  the  sounds  of  riot  having 
sunk  into  a  lower  and  more  di'owsy  tone,  he  succeeded  in  winning 
a  temporary  oblivion  from  his  cares. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


“  What  ho !  WTiat  ho  ! — thy  door  undo : 

Art  watching  or  asleep  ?” — Burger's  Leonora. 


On  the  banks  of  the  Ennoree,  in  a  little  nook  of  meadow,  formed 
by  the  bend  of  the  stream  which,  fringed  with  willows,  swept 
round  it  almost  in  a  semicircle,  the  inland  border  of  the  meadow 
being  defined  by  a  gently  rising  wall  of  hills  covered  with  wood, 
was  seated  within  a  few  paces  of  the  water,  a  neat  little  cottage 
with  a  group  of  out-buildings,  presenting  all  the  conveniences  of  a 
comfortable  farm.  The  dwelling-house  itself  w'as  shaded  by  a 
cluster  of  trees  which  had  been  spared  from  the  native  forest,  and 
within  view  were  several  fields  of  cultivated  ground  neatly  inclosed 
with  fences.  A  little  lower  down  the  stream  and  within  a  short 
distance  of  the  house,  partially  concealed  by  the  bank,  stood  a 
small  low-browed  mill,  built  of  wood.  It  was  near  sundowm,  and 
the  golden  light  of  evening  sparkled  upon  the  shower  which  fell 
from  the  leaky  race  that  conducted  the  water  to  the  head  gate, 
and  no  less  glittered  on  the  spray  that  was  dashed  from  the  large 
and  slowly  revolving  wheel.  The  steady  gush  of  the  stream,  and 
the  monotonous  clack  of  the  machinery,  aided  by  the  occasional 
discordant  scream  of  a  flock  of  geese  that  frequented  the  boi-der 
of  the  race,  and  by  the  gambols  of  a  few  children,  w'ho  played 
about  the  confines  of  the  mill,  excited  pleasant  thoughts  of  rural 
business  and  domestic  content.  A  rudely  constructed  wagon,  to 
which  were  harnessed  two  lean  horses,  stood  at  the  door  of  the 
mill,  and  two  men,  one  of  them  advanced  in  years,  and  the  other 
apparently  just  beyond  the  verge  of  boyhood,  were  occupied  in 
heaping  upon  it  a  heavy  load  of  bags  of  meal.  The  w’hitened 
habiliments  of  these  men  showed  them  to  be  the  proper  attendants 
of  the  place,  and  now  engaged  in  their  avocation.  A  military 
guard  stood  by  the  wagon,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  filled,  they  were 


288 


HOESE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


seen  to  put  the  horses  in  motion,  and  to  retire  by  a  road  that 
crossed  the  stream  and  take  the  descending  direction  of  the  cm-rent 
close  along  the  opposite  bank. 

When  this  party  had  disapjDeared,  the  old  man  directed  the  mill 
to  be  stopped.  The  gates  were  let  down,  the  machinery  ungeared, 
and,  in  a  few  moments,  all  was  still.  The  millers  now  retired  to 
the  little  habitation  hard  by. 

“  There  is  so  much  work  lost,”  said  the  elder  to  his  companion, 
as  they  approached  the  gate  that  opened  into  the  curtilage  of  the 
dwelling.  “We  shall  never  be  paid  for  that  load.  Colonel  Innis 
doesn’t  care  much  out  of  whose  pocket  he  feeds  his  men  ;  and  as 
to  his  orders  upon  Kawdon’s  quarter-master,  why  it  is  almost  the 
price  of  blood  to  venture  so  far  from  home  to  ask  for  payment — to 
say  nothing  of  the  risk  of  finding  the  army  purse  as  low  as  a  poor 
miller’s  at  home.  I  begrudge  the  grain,  Christopher,  and  the  work 
that  grinds  it ;  but  there  is  no  disputing  with  these  whiskered  foot¬ 
pads  with  bayonets  in  their  hands — they  must  have  it  and  will 
have  it,  and  there’s  an  end  of  it.” 

“  Aye,”  replied  the  man  addressed  by  the  name  of  Christopher, 
“  as  you  say,  they  vdll  have  it ;  and'  if  they  are  told  that  a  poor 
man’s  sweat  has  been  mixed  with  then-  bread,  they  talk  to  us  about 
the  cause — the  cause — the  cause.  I  am  tired  of  this  everlasting 
preaching  about  king  and  country.  I  don’t  know  but  if  I  had  my 
own  way  I’d  take  the  country  against  the  king  any  day.  What 
does  George  the  Third  care  for  us,  with  a  great  world  of  water 
between  ?” 

“  Whisht,  Christopher  Shaw — whisht,  boy !  We  have  no  opinions 
of  our  own  ;  trees  and  walls  have  ears  at  this  time.  It  isn’t  for 
us  to  be  bringing  blood  and  burning  under  our  roof,  by  setting  up 
for  men  who  have  opinions.  No,  no.  Wait  patiently  ;  and  per¬ 
haps,  Christopher,  it  will  not  be  long  before  this  gay  bird  Corn¬ 
wallis  will  be  plucked  of  his  feathers.  The  man  is  on  his  way 
now  that,  by  the  help  of  the  Lord,  may  bring  down  as  proud  a 
hawk  as  ever  flew  across  the  water.  If  it  should  be  otherwise, 
trust  to  the  power  above  the  might  of  armies,  and  wiser  than  the 
cunning  of  men,  that,  by  a  righteous  and  peaceful  life,  we  shall 
make  our  lot  an  easier  one  than  it  may  ever  be  in  mingling  in  the 
strife  of  the  evil-minded.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


239 


“  It  is  hard,  fbr  all  that — wise  as  it  is — to  be  still,”  said  Chris¬ 
topher,  “  with  one’s  arms  dangling  by  one’s  side,  when  one’s  neigh¬ 
bors  and  kinsmen  are  up  and  girding  themselves  for  battle.  It 
will  come  to  that  at  last ;  fight  we  must.  And,  I  don’t  care 
who  knows  it,  I  am  for  independence,  uncle  Allen.” 

“  Your  passion,  boy,  and  warmth  of  temper,  I  doubt,  outrun 
your  discretion,”  said  the  old  man.  “  But  you  speak  bravely  and 
I  cannot  chide  you  for  it.  For  the  present,  at  least,  be  temperate, 
and,  if  you  can,  silent.  It  is  but  unprofitable  talk  for  persons  in 
our  condition.” 

The  uncle  and  nephew  now  entered  the  house,  and  Allen  Mus- 
grove — for  this  was  the  person  to  whom  I  have  introduced  my 
reader — was  soon  seated  at  his  family  board,  invoking  a  blessing 
upon  his  evening  meal,  and  dispensing  the  cares  of  a  quiet  and 
peaceful  household. 

“  I  wonder  Mary  stays  so  long  with  her  aunt,”  he  said,  as  the 
early  hour  of  repose  drew  nigh.  “  It  is  an  ill  place  for  her,  wife, 
and  not  apt  to  please  the  girl  with  anything  she  may  find  there. 
Wat  Adair  is  an  irregular  man,  and  savage  as  the  beasts  he  hunts. 
His  associates  are  not  of  the  best,  and  but  little  suited  to  Mary’s 
quiet  temper.” 

The  wife,  a  staid,  motherly-looking  woman  of  plain  and  placid 
exterior,  who  was  busily  engaged  amongst  a  thousand  scraps  of 
coarse,  homespun-cloth,  which  she  was  fashioning  into  a  garment 
for  some  of  the  younger  members  of  her  family,  paused  from  her 
work,  upon  this  appeal  to  her,  and,  directing  her  glances  above 
her  spectacles  to  her  husband,  replied  : 

“  Mary  has  been  taught  to  perform  her  duties  to  her  kinsfolk, 
and  it  isn’t  often  that  she  counts  whether  it  is  pleasant  to  her  or 
not.  Besides,  Watty,  rough  as  he  is,  loves  our  girl ;  and  love  goes 
a  great  way  to  make  us  bear  and  forbear  both,  husband.  I’ll  war¬ 
rant  our  daughter  comes  home  when  she  thinks  it  right.  But  it  is 
.1  weary  way  to  ride  over  a  wild  country,  and  more  so  now'  when 
AVhig  and  Tory  have  distracted  the  land.  I  wish  Christopher 
could  be  s])ared  to  go  for  her.” 

“  He  shall  go  to-morrow,  wife,”  returned  Allen  Musgrove.  “  AA^at 
Adair,  love  her  or  not,  is  not  the  man  to  go  out  of  his  way  for  a 
wandering  girl,  and  would  think  nothing  to  see  the  child  set  out 


240 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


by  berself.  But  come,  it  is  Saturday  nigbt  and  near  bed-time. 
Put  aside  j^our  -work,  wife  ;  a  lesson  from  the  Book  of  Trutb,  and 
prayers,  and  then  to  rest,”  he  said,  as  he  took  down  a  family  Bible 
from  a  shelf  and  spread  it  before  him. 

The  old  man  put  on  a  pair  of  glasses,  which,  by  a  spring,  sus¬ 
tained  themselves  upon  his  nose,  and  with  an  audible  and  solemn 
voice  he  read  a  portion  of  scripture ;  then,  placing  himself  on  his 
knees,  whilst  the  whole  family  followed  his  example,  he  poured 
forth  a  fervent  and  heart-inspired  prayer.  It  was  a  simple  and 
homely  effusion,  delivered  from  the  suggestions  of  the  moment,  in 
accordance  with  a  devout  habit  of  thanksgiving  and  supplication 
to  wdiich  he  had  long  been  accustomed.  He  was  a  Presbyterian, 
and  had  witnessed,  with  many  a  pang,  the  profligate  contempt  and 
even  savage  persecution  with  which  his  sect  had  been  visited  by 
many  of  the  Tory  leaders — especially  by  the  loyahst  partisan.  Cap¬ 
tain  Huck,  who  had  been  recently  killed  in  an  incursion  of 
Sumpter’s  "at  Williams’s  plantation,  not  far  distant  from  Musgrove’s 
present  residence.  It  was  this  unsparing  hostility  towards  his 
religion,  and  impious  derision  of  it,  that,  more  than  any  other 
circumstance,  had  begotten  that  secret  dislike  of  the  Tory  cause 
which,  it  was  known  to  a  few,  the  miller  entertained,  although  his 
age,  situation,  and,  perhaps,  some  ancient  prejudice  of  descent  (for 
he  was  the  son  of  an  early  Scotch  emigrant),  wmuld  rather  have 
inclined  him  to  take  the  royal  side ;  that  side  which,  in  common 
belief  and  in  appearance,  he  still  favored. 

“  Thou  hast  bent  thy  bow,”  he  said,  in  the  warmest  efl'usion  of 
his  prayer,  “and  shot  thine  arrow's,  0  Lord,  amongst  this  people; 
thou  hast  permitted  the  ministers  of  vengeance,  and  the  seekers  of 
blood  to  ride  amongst  us,  and  thy  wrath  hath  not  yet  bow'ed  the 
stubborn  spirit  of  sin — but  the  hard  hearts  are  given  strong  arms, 
and  Avith  curses  they  have  smitten  the  people.  Yet  even  t^e  fire¬ 
brand  that  it  did  please  thee  not  to  stay  because  of  our  sins^yea, 
even  the  firebrand  that  did  cause  conflagration  along  our  border, 
until  bj'  the  light  the  erring  children  of  men  might  read  in  the 
dark  night,  fi’om  one  end  of  our  boundary  even  unto  the  other, 
the  enormity  of  their  own  backslidings,  and  their  forgetfulness  of 
thee ;  that  firebrand  hath  been  throAvn  into  the  blaze  -which  it  had 
itself  kindled,  and,  like  a  weapon  of  w'ar  w'hich  hath  grown  dull 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


241 


in  the  work  of  destruction,  hath  been  cast  into  the  place  of 
unprofitable  lumber,  and  hath  been  utterly  consumed.  The  perse¬ 
cutor  of  the  righteous  and  the  scoffer  of  the  word  hdth  paid  the 
price  of  blood,  and  hath  fallen  into  the  snares  wherewith  he  lay  in 
wait  to  ensnare  the  feet  of  the  unthinking.  But  stay  now,  0  Lord 
of  Hosts,  the  hand  of  the  destroyer,  and  let  the  angel  of  peace 
again  spread  his  wing  over  our  racked  and  wearied  land.  Take 
from  the  wicked  heart  his  sword  and  shield,  and  make  the  right¬ 
eous  man  safe  beside  his  family  hearth.  Shelter  the  head  of  the 
wanderer,  and  guide  in  safety  the  hunted  fugitive  who  flees  before 
the  man  of  wrath  ;  comfort  the  captive  in  his  captivity,  and  make 
all  hearts  in  this  rent  and  sundered  province  to  know  and  bless  thy 
mercies  for  ever  more.  In  especial,  we  beseech  thee  to  give  the 
victory  to  him  that  hath  right,  and  to  ’stablish  the  foundations  of 
the  government  in  justice  and  truth,  giving  liberty  of  conscience 
and  liberty  of  law  to  those  who  know  how  to  use  it.”  At  this 
point  the  worship  of  the  evening  was  arrested  by  a  slight  knock¬ 
ing  at  the  door. 

“  Who  goes  there  ?”  exclaimed  the  old  man,  starting  from  his 
kneeling  position.  “  Who  raps  at  my  door  ?” 

“  A  stranger,  good  man,”  replied  a  voice  without.  “  A  poor 
fellow  that  has  been  hot  pressed  and  hard  run.” 

“  Friend  or  foe  ?”  asked  Allen  Musgrove. 

“  A  very  worthless  friend  to  any  man  at  this  present  speaking,” 
replied  the  person  on  the  outside  of  the  door ;  “  and  not  fit  to  be 
counted  a  foe  until  he  has  had  something  to  eat.  If  you  be 
Allen  i\fusgrovc,  open  your  door.” 

“Are  you  alone,  or  do  you  come  with  followers  at  your 
heels  ?  My  house  is  small  and  can  give  scant  comfort  to 
many?” 

“  Faith,  it  is  more  than  I  know,”  responded  the  other ;  “  but 
if  I  have  followers  it  is  not  wdth  my  will  that  they  shall  cross 
your  door-sill.  If  you  be  Allen  Musgrove,  or  if  you  be  not,  open, 
friend.  I  am  as  harmless  as  a  barndoor  fowl.” 

“  I  do  not  fear  you,  sir,”  said  Musgrove,  opening  the  door ; 
“  you  are  welcome  to  all  I  can  give  you,  whatever  colors  you 
serve.” 

“  Then  give  us  your  hand,”  said  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,  striding 

11 


242 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


into  the  apartment.  “  You  are  a  stranger  to  me,  but  if  you  are 
Allen  Musgrove,  the  miller,  that  I  have  hearu  men  speak  of,  you 
are  not  the  f)erson  to  turn  your  back  on  a  fellow  creature  in  dis¬ 
tress.  Your  sarvent,  mistress,”  he  added,  bowing  to  the  dame. 
“  Far  riding  and  fast  riding  gives  a  sort  of  claim  these  times  ;  so 
excuse  me  for  sitting  down.” 

“You  are  welcome,  again  ;  your  name,  sir  ?”  said  Musgrove. 

“  Have  I  guessed  yours  ?”  inquhed  Horse  Shoe. 

“You  have.” 

“  Then  you  must  guess  mine  ;  for  it  isn’t  convenient  to  tell  it.” 

“Some  poor  Whig  soldier,”  said  Christopher  Shaw  privately  to 
Musgrove.  “  It  isn’t  right  to  make  him  betray  himself.  You  are 
hungry,  friend,”  added  Christopher ;  “  and  we  will  first  get  you 
something  to  eat,  and  then  you  may  talk  all  the  better  for  it.” 

“  That’s  a  good  word,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  “  and  a  brave  word,  as 
things  go ;  for  it  isn’t  every  man  has  the  courage  to  feed  an  enemy 
in  these  days,  though  I  made  the  devils  do  it  for  me  this  morning, 
ha,  ha,  ha !  Some  water,  Mr.  Musgrove,  and  it  will  not  come 
badly  to  my  hand  if  you  can  tangle  it  somewhat.” 

The  refreshment  asked  for  was  produced  by  Christopher  Shaw  ; 
and  Horse  Shoe,  taking  the  brimming  cup  in  his  hand,  stood  up, 
and  with  a  rather  awkward  courtesy,  pledged  the  draught  with 
“  Your  health,  good  mistress,  and  luck  to  the  little  ones  !  for  we 
grown-up  babies  are  out  of  the  days  of  luck,  except  the  luck  of 
escaping  twisted  hemp,  or  drum-head  law,  which  for  to-night,  I 
believe,  is  mine  and  he  swallowed  the  mixture  at  a  draught ; 
then,  with  a  long  sigh,  placed  the  cup  upon  the  table  and  resumed 
his  seat.  “  That  there  spirit,  Mr.  Musgrove,”  he  added,  “  is  a 
special  good  friend  in  need,  preach  against  it  who  will !” 

“  You  say  you  have  ridden  far  to-day,”  remarked  the  miller : 
“  you  must  be  tired.” 

“  I  am  not  apt  to  get  tired,”  replied  the  sergeant,  turning  his 
sword-belt  over  his  head,  and  flinging  the  weapon  upon  a  bench ; 
“  but  I  am  often  hungry.” 

“  My  wife,”  said  Musgrove,  smiling,  “has  taken  that  hint  before 
you  spoke  it;  she  has  already  ordered  something  for  you  to 
eat.” 

“  That’s  an  excellent  woman !”  exclaimed  Horse  Shoe.  “  You 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


243 


see,  Allen  Musgrove,  I  don’t  stand  much  upon  making  myself  free 
of  your  house.  I  have  hearn  of  you  often  before  I  saw  you,  man  ; 
and  I  know  all  about  you.  You  are  obliged  to  keep  fair  weather 
with  these  Tories — who  have  no  consideration  for  decent,  orderly 
peoj^le — but  your  heart  is  with  the  boys  that  go  for  liberty.  You 
see  I  know  you,  and  am  not  afeard  to  trust  you.  Perchance,  you 
mought  have  hearn  tell  of  one  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,  who  lived  over 
here  at  the  Waxhaws  ?” 

“  I  have  heard  many  stories  about  that  man,”  replied  the 
miller. 

“  Well,  I  won’t  tell  you  that  he  is  in  your  house  to-night,  for 
fear  the  Tories  might  take  you  to  account  for  harboring  such  a 
never-do-well.  But  you  have  got  a  poor  fellow  under  your  roof 
that  has  had  a  hard  run  to  get  here.” 

“  In  my  house  !”  exclaimed  Musgi’ove  ;  “  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  !” 
and  then,  after  a  pause,  he  continued,  “  well,  well,  there  is  no  rule 
of  war  that  justifies  a  Christian  in  refusing  aid  and  comfort  to  a 
houseless  and  hunted  stranger,  Avho  comes  with  no  thought  of 
harm  to  a  peaceful  family  hearth.  I  take  no  part  in  the  war  on 
either  side  ;  and,  in  your  ear,  friend  Robinson,  I  take  none  against 
you  or  the  brave  men  that  stand  by  you.” 

“  Your  hand  again,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  reaching  towards  the 
miller.  “  Allen,  I  have  come  to  you  under  a  sore  press  of  heels. 
An  officer  of  the  Continental  army  and  me  have  been  travel¬ 
ling  through  these  here  parts,  and  we  have  been  most  onaccount- 
ably  ambushed  by  a  half  wild-cat,  half  bull-dog,  known  by  the 
name  of  Captain  Hugh  Habershaw,  who  notched  us  in  the  night 
'  at  Grindall’s  ford.” 

“  Heaven  have  mercy  on  the  man  who  has  anything  to  do  with 
Hugh  Habershaw !”  exclaimed  the  millei'’s  wife. 

“  Amen,  mistress,”  responded  the  sergeant ;  “  for  a  surlier,  mis¬ 
begotten  piece  of  flesh,  there’s  not  in  these  .wild  woods,  ginng  you 
the  choice  of  bear,  panther,  catamount,  rattlesnake,  or  what  not. 
We  were  sot  upon,”  continued  the  sergeant,  “  by  this  bully  and  a 
bevy  of  his  braggadocios,  and  made  prisoners ;  but  I  took  a  chance 
to  slip  the  noose  this  morning,  and  after  riding  plump  into  a 
hornet’s  nest  at  Blackstock’s,  where  I  put  on  a  new  face  and 
tricked  the  guard  out  of  a  dinner  and  this  here  old  sword,  I  took  a 


244 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


coui’se  for  this  mill,  axing  people  along  the  road  where  I  should 
find  Allen  Musgrove  ;  and  so,  after  making  some  roundabouts  and 
dodging  into  the  woods  until  night  came  on,  to  keep  clear  of  the 
Tories,  here  I  am.” 

“  And  the  officer  ?”  said  Musgrove. 

“  He  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Philistines  yet — most  likely  now  at 
Blackstock’s.” 

“  What  might  be  his  n  ame  ?” 

“  Major  Butler — a  bold,  warm  gentleman — that’s  been  used  to 
tender  life  and  good  fortune.  He  has  lands  on  the  sea-coast — 
unless  that  new-fangled  court  at  Charlestown,  that  they  call  the 
.Court  of  Seekerstations,  has  made  them  null  and  void — as  they 
have  been  making  the  estates  of  better  gentleman  than  they  could 
ever  pretend  to  be ;  taldng  all  the  best  lands,  you  see,  Allen,  to 
themselves,  the  cursed  iniquiters  !” 

“  "Where  did  you  come  from  with  this  gentleman  ?” 

“  A  long  way  off,  Mr.  Musgrove — from  old  "Virginny — but 
lastly  from  Wat  Adair’s.” 

“  Wat’s  wife  is  a  relation  of  my  family.” 

“Then  he  is  a  filthy  disgrace  to  all  who  claim  kin  with  him, 
Allen  Musgrove.  Wat  was  the  man  who  put  us  into  the  wild¬ 
cat’s  claws — at  least,  so  we  had  good  reason  to  think.  There  was 
a  tidy,  spruce,  and  smart  little  wench  there — tut,  man — I  am  talk¬ 
ing  of  your  own  kith  and  kindred,  for  her  name  was  Mary  Mus¬ 
grove.” 

“  Our  girl !”  said  the  dame  with  an  animated  emphasis;  “our 
own  Mary  ;  what  of  her,  Mr.  Horse  Shoe  Eobinson  ?” 

“  That  she  is  as  good  a  child.  Mistress  Musgrove,  as  any  honest 
2)arent  mought  wish  for.  She  got  some  sort  of  inkling  of  what 
was  contrived  ;  and  so  she  appeared  to  Major  Butler  in  a  dream — 
or  her  ghost.” 

“  Mercy  on  us !  the  child  has  not  been  hurt  ?”  cried  the 
mother. 

“  Ondoubtedly  not,  ma’am,”  said  Eobinson  ;  “  but  it  is  as  true 
as  you  are  there,  she  gave  us,  somehow  or  other,  a  warning  that 
there  was  harm  in  the  wind  ;  and  we  took  her  advice,  but  it  didn’t 
do.” 

“  I  wish  the  child  were  home,”  said  Musgrove.  “  Christo- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


245 


pber,  at  day-ligbt,  boy,  saddle  a  horse  and  be  off  to  Adair’s  for 
,  Mary.”  . 

The  nephew  promised  to  do  the  errand. 

“  Come,  Mr.  Robinson,  draw  near  the  table  and  eat  some¬ 
thing.” 

“  With  right  good  heart,”  replied  Horse  Shoe ;  “  but  it’s  a  kind 
of  camp  rule  with  me,  before  I  taste  food — no  matter  where — just 
to  look  after  Captain  Peter  Clinch  ;  that’s  my  horse,  friend  Mus- 
grove.  So,  by  your  leave,  I’ll  just  go  take  a  peep  to  see  that  the 
Captain  is  sarved.  A  good  beast  is  a  sort  of  right  arm  in  scrapish 
times ;  and  as  God  ha’n’t  given  them  the  gift  of  speech,  we  must 
speak  for  them.” 

“  Christopher  shall  save  you  the  trouble,”  replied  Musgiwe. 

“  A  good  horse  never  loses  anything  by  the  eye  of  his  master,” 
said  Horse  Shoe  ;  “  so,  Christopher,  I’ll  go  with  you.” 

In  a  short  time  the  sergeant  returned  into  the  house,  and  took 
his  seat  at  the  table,  where  he  fell  to,  at  what  was  set  before  him, 
with  a  laudable  dispatch. 

“  How  far  off,”  he  inquired,  “  is  the  nearest  Tory  post,  Mr.  Mus- 
grove  ?” 

“  Colonel  Innis  has  some  light  corps  stationed  within  two  miles. 
If  you  had  been  a  little  earlier  you  would  have  found  some  of 
them  at  my  mill.” 

“  Innis !”  repeated  Horse  Shoe,  “  I  thought  Floyd  had  these 
paids  under  command  ?” 

“  So  he  has,”  replied  the  miller,”  but  he  has  lately  joined  the 
garrison  at  Rocky  Mount.” 

“  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !”  ejaculated  Robinson,  “  that’s  a  pot  into  which 
Sumpter  will  be  dipping  his  ladle  before  long.  All  the  land  be¬ 
tween  Waterce  and  Broad  belongs  to  Tom  Sumpter,  let  mad-cap 
Tarleton  do  his  best !  We  Whigs,  Mr.  Musgrove,  have  a  little 
touch  of  the  hobgoblin  in  us.  We  travel  pretty  much  where  we 
jilease.  Now,  I  will  tell  you,  friend,  very  plainly  what  I  am  after. 
I  don’t  mean  to  leave  these  parts  till  I  see  what  is  to  become  of 
Major  Butler.  Innis  and  Floyd  put  together  sha’n’t  hinder  me 
from  looking  after  a  man  that’s  under  my  charge.  I’m  an  old 
sodgjer,  and  they  can’t  make  much  out  of  me  if  they  get  me.” 

“  The  country  is  swarming  with  troops  of  one  kind  or  another,” 


246 


HOESE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


said  the  miller  ;  “  and  a  man  must  have  his  wits  about  him  who 
would  get  thi’ough  it.  You  are  now,  Mr.  Eobinson,  in  a  very  dan¬ 
gerous  quarter.  The  fort  at  Ninety-Six  on  one  side  of  you,  and 
Rocky  Mount  and  Hanging  Rock  on  the  other — the  road  between 
the  three  is  full  of  loyalists.  Colonel  Innis  is  here  to  keep  the 
passage  open,  and,  almost  hourly,  his  men  are  passing.  You 
should  he  careful  in  showing  yourself  in  daylight.  And  as  for 
your  poor  friend.  Major  Butler,  there  is  not  likely  to  he  much  good 
will  shown  towards  him.  I  greatly  fear  his  case  is  worse  than  it 
seems  to  you.” 

“  There  is  somewhere,”  said  Robinson,  “  in  that  book  that  lies 
open  on  the  table — which  I  take  to  be  the  Bible — the  story  of  the 
campaigns  of  King  David  ;  and  as  I  have  beam  it  read  by  the 
preacher,  it  tells  how  David  was  pushed  on  all  sides  by  flying 
corps  of  the  enemy,  and  that,  seeing  he  had  no  sword,  he  came 
across  a  man  who  gave  him  victuals  and  the  sword  of  Goliath — as 
I  got  my  dinner  and  a  sword  this  morning  from  the  tavern-keeper 
at  Blackstock’s ;  and  then  he  set  olf  on  his  flight  to  some  strange 
place,  where  he  feigned  himself  crazy  and  scrabbled  at  the  gate, 
and  let  the  spit  run  down  on  his  beard — as  I  have  done  before  now 
with  Tarleton,  Mr.  Musgrove  ;  and  then  King  David  took  into  a 
cave — which  I  shouldn’t  stand  much  upon  doing  if  there  was 
occasion  ;  and  thei'e  the  King  waited,  until  he  got  friends  about 
him  and  Avas  able  to  drub  the  Philistians  for  robbing  the  threshing- 
floors — as  I  make  no  doubt  these  Tories  have  robbed  yours,  Allen 
MusgTove.  But  you  know  all  about  it,  seeing  that  you  are  able  to 
read,  which  I  am  not.  Now,  I  don’t  pretend  to  say  that  I  nor 
Major  Butler  are  as  good  men  as  David — not  at  all ;  but  the  cause 
of  liberty  is  as  good  a  cause  as  ever  King  David  fought  for,  and 
the  Lord  that  took  his  side  in  the  cave,  will  take  the  side  of  the 
Whigs,  sooner  or  later,  and  help  them  to  beat  these  grinding, 
thieving,  burning,  and  throat-cutting  Tories.  And,  moreover,  a 
brave  man  ought  never  to  be  cast  down  by  such  vermin ;  that’s 
my  religion,  Mr.  Musgrove,  though  you  mought  hardly  expect  to 
find  much  thought  of  such  things  left  in  a  rough  fellow  like  me, 
that’s  been  hammered  in  these  here  wars  like  an  old  piece  of  iron 
that’s  been  one  while  a  plough  coulter,  and  after  that  a  gun-barrel, 
and  finally  that’s  been  run  up  with  others  into  a  piece  of  ordnance 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


24Y 


— not  to  say  that  it  mouglitn’t  have  been  a  horse  shoe  in  some 
part  of  its  life,  ha  !  lia !  ha  !  There’s  not  likely  to  he  much  con¬ 
science  or  religion  left  after  all  that  hammering.” 

“  ‘  He  shall  keep  the  simple  folk  by  their  right,’  ”  said  Musgrove, 
quoting  a  passage  from  the  Psalms,  “  ‘  defend  the  children  of  the 
poor  and  punish  the  wrong-doer.’  You  have  finished  your  supper, 
Mr.  Robinson,”  he  continued,  “  and  before  we  retire  to  rest  you 
ii\TJl  join  us  in  the  conclusion  of  our  family  worship,  which  was 
interrupted  by  your  coming  into  the  house.  We  will  sing  a  Psalm 
which  has  been  given  to  us  by  that  man  whose  deliverance  has 
taught  you  where  you  are  to  look  for  yours.” 

“  If  I  cannot  help  to  make  music,  Allen,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  “  I 
can  listen  with  good  will.” 

The  miller  now  produced  a  little  book  in  black-letter,  containing 
a  familiar  and  ancient  version  of  the  Psalms,  and  the  following 
quaint  and  simple  lines  were  read  by  him  in  successive  couplets, 
the  whole  family  singing  each  distich  as  soon  as  it  was  given  out 
— not  excepting  Horse  Shoe,  who,  after  the  first  couplet,  having 
acquired  some  slight  perception  of  the  tune,  chimed  in  with  a 
voice  that  might  have  alarmed  the  sentinels  of  Innis’s  camp  : 

“  A  king  that  trusteth  in  his  host 
Shall  not  prevail  at  length ; 

The  man  that  of  his  might  doth  boast 
Shall  fall,  for  all  his  strength. 

“  The  troops  of  horsemen  eke  shall  fail. 

Their  sturdy  steeds  shall  stai-ve : 

The  strength  of  horse  shall  not  prevail 
The  rider  to  preserve. 

i 

“  But  so  the  eyes  of  God  intend. 

And  watch  to  aid  the  just ; 

With  such  as  fear  him  to  offend. 

And  on  his  goodness  trust. 

“  That  he.  of  death  and  great  distress 
May  set  their  souls  from  dread ; 

And  if  that  dearth  their  land  oppress^ 

In  hunger  them  to  feed. 


248 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Wlierefore  our  soul  dotli  wliole  depend 
On  God,  our  strengtli  and  stay ; 

He  is  our  sloield  us  to  defend 
And  diive  all  darts  away.” 

When  this  act  of  devotion  was  concluded  the  old  man  invoked 
a  blessing  upon  his  household,  and  gave  his  orders  that  the  family- 
should  betake  themselves  to  rest.  Horse  Shoe  had  already  taken 
up  his  sword  and  was  about  retiiing  to  a  chamber,  under  the 
guidance  of  Christopher  Shaw,  when  the  door  was  suddenly  thrown 
wide  open,  and  in  rushed  Mary  Musgrove.  She  ran  up,  threw  her¬ 
self  into  her  father’s  arms,  and  cried  out — 

“  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  that  I  have  reached  home  to-night !”  then 
kissing  both  of  her  parents,  she  flung  herself  into  a  chair,  saying 
— “  I  am  tired — very  tired.  I  have  ridden  the  livelong  day,  alone, 
and  frightened  out  of  my  wits.”  • 

“  Hot  alone,  my  daughter  ! — on  that  weary  road,  and  the  coun¬ 
try  so  troubled  with  ill-governed  men  !  Why  did  you  venture, 
girl  ?  Did  you  not  think  I  would  send  your  cousin  Christopher 
for  you  ?” 

“  Oh,  father,”  replied  Mary,  “  there  have  been  such  doings  !  Ah  ! 
and  here  is  Mr.  Horse  Shoe  Kobinson  ;  Major  Butler,  where  is  he, 
sir?”  she  exclaimed,  turning  to  the  sergeant,  who  had  now 
approached  the  back  of  her  chair  to  offer  his  hand. 

“  Blessings  on  you  for  a  wise  and  a  brave  girl !”  said  Robinson. 
“  But  it  wouldn’t  do  ;  we  were  ambushed,  and  the  Major  is  still  a 
prisoner.” 

“  I  feared  it,”  said  Mary,  “  and  therefore  I  stole  away.  They  are 
bloody-minded  and  wicked,  father ;  and  uncle  Adair’s  house  has 
been  the  place  where  mischief  and  murder  has  been  talked  of. 
Oh,  I  am  very  sick  !  I  have  had  such  a  ride  !” 

“  Poor  wench  !”  said  the  father,  taking  her  to  his  bosom.  “  You 
have  not  the  temper  nor  the  strength  to  struggle  where  ruthless 
men  take  up  their  weapons  of  war.  W^hat  has  befallen  ?  Tell  us 
all  !” 

“  No,  no  !”  interposed  the  mother  ;  “  no,  Allen,  not  now.  The 
^rl  must  have  food  and  sleep,  and  must  not  be  wearied  with  ques¬ 
tions  to-night.  Wait,  my  dear  Mary,  until  to-morrow.  She  -will 
tell  us  everything  to-morrow.” 


HOUSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


249 


“  I  must  hear  of  Major  Butler,”  said  Mary ;  “  I  cannot  sleep 
until  I  have  heard  all  that  has  happened.  Good  Mr.  Kohinson, 
tell  me  everything.” 

In  few  words  the  sergeant  unfolded  to  the  damsel  the  eventful 
history  of  the  last  two  days,  during  the  narrative  of  which  her 
cheek  waxed  pale,  her  strength  failed  her,  and  she  sank  almost''^' — 
lifeless  across  her  father’s  knee. 

“  Give  me  some  water,”  she  said.  “  My  long  ride  has  worn  me 
out.  I  ran  off  at  daylight  this  morning,  and  have  not  stopped 
once  upon  the  road.” 

A  glass  of  milk  with  a  slice  of  bread  restored  the  maiden  to  her 
strength,  and  she  took  the  first  opportunity  to  inform  the  circle 
who  surrounded  her  of  all  the  incidents  that  had  fallen  under  her 
observation  at  Adair’s.  ^ 

Her  father  listened  with  deep  emotion  to  the  tale,  and  during  its 
relation  clenched  his  teeth  with  anger,  as  he  walked,  to  and  fro, 
through  the  apartment.  Tliere  was  an  earnest  struggle  in  his 
feelings  to  withhold  the  expression  of  the  strong  execration,  which 
the  nai-rative  brought  almost  to  his  lips,  against  the  perfidy  of  his 
wife’s  kinsman.  But  the  habitual  control  of  his  temper,  which  his 
religious  habits  inculcated,  kept  him  silent ;  and  considerations  of 
ju-udence  again  swayed  him  from  surrendering  to  the  impulse, 
which  would  have  led  him  to  declare  himself  openly  against  the 
cause  of  the  royal  government  and  its  supporters  in  the  district 
where  he  lived,  lie  cross-questioned  his  daughter  as  to  many 
minute  points  of  her  story,  but  her  answers  were  uniform  and  con¬ 
sistent,  and  were  stamped  with  the  most  unequivocal  proofs  of  her 
strict  veracity.  Indeed,  the  collateral  evidences  furnished  by 
Robinson,  left  no  doubt  on  the  miller’s  mind  that  the  whole  of 
Mary’s  disclosures  were  the  testimony  of  a  witness  whose  senses 
could  not  have  been  disturbed  by  illusions,  nor  distempered  by 
fear. 

“  It  is  a  dreadful  tale,”  he  said,  “  and  we  must  think  over  it  more 
maturely.  Be  of  good  heart,  my  daughtei*,  you  have  acted  well 
and  wisely  ;  God  will  protect  us  from  harm.” 

“  And  so  it  was  no  ghost,  nor  spirit,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  “that  the 
major  saw  in  the  night  ?  But  I  wonder  you  didn’t  think  of  waking 
me.  A  word  to  me  in  the  night — seeing  I  have  sarved  a  good 

11* 


250 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


deal  ou  outposts,  and  have  got  used  to  being  called  up — would 
have  had  me  stirring  in  a  wink.  But  that’s  part  of  Wat’s  luck, 
for  I  should  most  ondoubtedly  have  strangled  the  snake  in  his 
bed.” 

“  I  called  you,”  said  Mary,  “  as  loudly  as  I  durst,  and  more  than 
once,  hut  you  slept  so  hard  !” 

“  That’s  like  me  too,”  replied  Horse  Shoe.  “  I’m  both  sleepy 
and  watchful,  according  as  I  think  there  is  need  of  my  sarvices.” 

“Now  to  bed,  my  child,”  said  Musgi’ove.  “Your  bed  is  the 
fittest  place  for  your  wearied  body.  God  bless  you,  daughter !” 

Once  more  the  family  broke  up,  and  as  Robinson  left  the  room 
Mary  followed  him  to  the  foot  of  the  little  stair  that  woimd  up  into 
an  attic  chamber ;  here  she  detained  him  one  moment,  while  she 
communicated  to  him  in  a  half  'whisper, 

“  I  have  a  friend,  Mr.  Robinson,  that  might  help  you  to  do 
something  for  Major  Butler.  His  name  is  John  Ramsay:  he 
belongs  to  General  Sumpter’s  brigade.  If  you  would  go  to  his 
father’s,  only  six  miles  from  here,  on  the  uj^per  road  to  Ninety-Six, 
you  might  hear  rvhere  John  was.  But,  may  be,  you  are  afraid  to 
go  so  near  to  the  fort  ?” 

“  May  be  so,”  said  Robinson,  with  a  look  of  comic  incredulity. 
“  I  know  the  place,  and  I  know  the  family,  and,  likely,  John  him¬ 
self.  It’s  a  good  thought,  Mary,  for  I  want  help  now,  more  than  I 
ever  did  in  my  life.  I’ll  start  before  daylight — for  it  won’t  do  to 
let  the  sun  shine  upon  me,  with  Innis’s  Tories  so  nigh.  So,  if  I 
am  missed  to-morrow  morning,  let  your  father  know  how  I  come 
to  be  away.” 

“  Tell  John,”  said  Mary,  “  I  sent  you  to  him.  Mary  Musgrove, 
remember.” 

“If  I  can’t  find  John,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  “you’re  such  a 
staunch  little  petticoat  sodger,  that  I’ll,  perhaps,  come  back  and 
enlist  you.  ’Tisn’t  everywhere  that  we  can  find  such  valiant 
wenches.  I  wish  some  of  our  men  had  a  httle  of  your  courage ; 
so,  good  night!” 

The  maiden  now  returned  to  the  parlor,  and  Horse  Shoe,  under 
the  guidance  of  Christopher  Shaw,  found  a  comfortable  place  of 
deposit  for  his  hard-worked,  though — as  he  would  have  Christopher 
believe — his  unfatigued  frame.  The  sergeant,  however,  was  a  man 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


251 


not  born  to  cares,  notwithstanding  that  his  troubles  were  “  as  thick 
as  the  sparks  that  fly  upward,”  and  it  is  a  trivial  fact  in  his  history, 
that,  on  the  present  occasion,  he  was  not  many  seconds  in  bed 
before  he  was  as  sound  asleep  as  the  trapped  partridges,  in  the 
fairy  tale,  which,  the  eastern  chronicle  records,  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep  when  roasting  upon  the  spit,  and  did  not  wake  for  a  hundred 
years. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


“  Now  if  you  ask  who  gave  the  stroke 
I  cannot  tell,  so  mote  I  thrive ; 

It  was  not  given  by  man  alive.” — Lay  of  the  last  Minstrel. 


It  Avas  a  little  before  day-break  on  Sunday  morning,  tbe  fifteenth 
of  August  (a  day  rendered  memorable  by  the  exploit  of  Sumpter, 
who  captured,  in  the  vicinity  of  Rocky  Mount,  a  large  quantity  of 
military  stores,  and  a  numerous  escort,  then  on  theh  way  from 
Ninety-Six  to  Camden),  that  James  Curry  was  travelling  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Ennoree,  some  four  miles  distant  from 
Musgrove’s  mill.  He  had  a  few  hours  before  left  the  garrison  of 
Ninety-Six,  and  was  noAV  hieing  Avith  all  haste  to  Blackstock’s  on 
a  mission  of  importance.  The  night  had  been  sultry,  but  the 
approach  of  the  dawn  had  brought  Avith  it  that  refreshing  coolness 
which  is  always  to  be  remarked  in  the  half  hour  that  jirecedes  the 
first  blush  of  morning.  The  dragoon  had  had  a  Aveary  night-ride, 
but  the  recent  change  of  temperature  had  invigorated  his  system 
and  given  buoyancy  to  his  spirits.  This  effect  Avas  exhibited  in  his 
first  Avhistling  a  tune,  then  humming  the  Avords  of  a  ditty,  and, 
finally,  in  breaking  forth  into  a  loud  full  song,  which,  as  he  had  a 
good  voice  and  practised  skill,  increased  in  loudness  as  he  became 
better  pleased  with  the  trial  of  his  powers.  The  song  was  occasion¬ 
ally  mtermitted  to  give  room  to  certain  self-communings  Avhich  the 
pastime  suggested. 

You  may  take  it  for  sooth,  that  wit  without  gold,” 

he  sang  in  the  loudest  strain,  trying  the  words  on  different  keys, 
and  introducing  some  variations  in  the  tune — 

“  Will  make  a  bad  market  whenever  His  sold.” 

“  That’s  true ;  your  poor  moneyless  devil,  how  should  his  wit  pass 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


253 


current  ?  He  was  a  shrewd  fellow  that  wi-ote  it  down.  Your  rich 
man  for  wit,  all  the  ivorld  over,  and  so  the  song  runs : — 

“  ‘  But  all  over  the  world  it  is  well  understood 
That  the  joke  of  a  rich  man  is  sure  to  be  good.’ 

“  True,  true  as  gospel !  Give  the  knaves  dinners,  plenty  of 
Burgundy  and  Port,  and  what  signifies  an  empty  head  ?  Go  to 
college,  and  how  is  it  there?  What  is  a  sizer’s  joke?  If  the 
fellow  have  the  ivit  of  Diogenes,  it  is  sheer  impertinence.  But  let 
my  young  lord  CrcBsus  come  out  with  his  flatulent  nonsense,  oh, 
that’s  the  true  ware  for  the  market !  James  Curry,  James  Curry, 
what  ought  you  to  have  been,  if  the  supple  jade  fortune  had  done 
your  deserts  justice  !  Instead  of  a  d — d  dodging  dragoon,  obedi¬ 
ent  to  the  beck  of  every  puppy  who  wears  his  majesty’s  epaulets ; 
hut  it’s  no  matter,  that’s  past ;  the  wheel  has  made  its  turn,  and 
here  I  am,  doing  the  work  of  the  scullion,  that  ought  to  sit  above 
the  salt-cellar.  Vogue  la  galore!  We  will  play  out  the  play. 
Meantime,  I’ll  he  merry  in  spite  of  the  horoscope :  come  then,  I 
like  these  words  and  the  jolly  knave,  whoever  he  was,  that  penned 
them. 


“  ‘  You  may  take  it  for  sooth  that  wit  without  gold.’  ” 

The  singer  was,  at  this  instant,  arrested  at  the  top  of  his  voice 
by  a  blow  against  the  back  of  his  head,  bestowed,  apparently,  by 
some  ponderous  hand,  that  so  effectually  swayed  him  from  the 
line  of  gravity,  as  to  cause  him  to  reel  in  his  saddle,  and,  by  an 
irrecoverable  impetus,  to  swing  round  to  the  ground,  where  he 
alighted  on  his  back,  with  the  reins  of  his  horse  firmly  held  in  his 
hand. 

“  vSinging  on  Sunday  is  against  the  law,”  said  a  hoarse  voice, 
that  came  apparently  from  the  air,  as  the  darkness  of  the  hour — 
which  was  increased  by  an  overcast  and  lowering  sky,  as  well  as  by 
the  thick  wood  through  which  the  road  ran,  prevented  the  stricken 
man  from  discerning  anything  that  might  have  done  him  h;Trm, 
even  if  such  thing  had  been  bodily  present.  The  soldier  lay  for  a 
moment  j)rostrato,  bewildered  by  the  suddenness  of  this  mysterious 
visitation  ;  and  when,  at  length,  he  regained  his  feet,  he  almost 


254 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


fancied  that  he  heard  receding  from  him,  at  a  great  distance,  the 
dull  heat  of  a  hoi-se’s  foot  upon  the  sandy  road. 

Curry,  who  as  a  soldier  was  insensible  to  fear,  now  shook  in  every 
joint,  as  he  stood  beside  his  horse  in  a  state  of  confused  and  ravelled 
wonderment.  He  strained  his  ear  to  catch  the  sound  in  the  direc¬ 
tion  towards  which  he  thought  he  had  heard  the  retreating  footsteps, 
but  his  more  deliberate  attention  persuaded  him  that  he  was  mistaken 
in  his  first  impression.  Still  more  puzzled  as  he  came  into  the  pos¬ 
session  of  his  faculties,  of  which  the  abruptness  of  the  surprise 
had  almost  bereft  him,  he  stood  for  some  time  mute ;  then  draw¬ 
ing  his  sword  with  the  alacrity  of  a  man,  who  all  at  once  believes 
himself  in  danger  of  an  uplifted  blow,  he  called  out  loudly, 

“  Speak,  and  show  yourself,  if  you  be  a  man  !  Or  if  there  be  a 
party,  let  them  come  forth.  Who  waylays  me  ?  Remember,  I 
warn  him,  in  the  name  of  the  king,  that  I  am  on  his  majesty’s 
errand,  and  that  they  are  not  far  off  who  will  punish  any  outrage 
on  my  person.  By  all  the  powers  of  Satan,  the  place  is  bewitched !” 
he  exclaimed,  after  a  pause.  “  Once  more,  speak ;  whether  you 
are  to  be  conjured  in  the  name  of  the  king  or  of  the  devil !” 

All  remained  silent,  except  the  leaves  of  the  forest  that  fluttered 
in  the  breeze  ;  and  it  was  with  an  awkward  and  unacknowledged 
sense  of  faint-heartedness  that  Curry  put  up  his  sword  and 
remounted  into  his  saddle.  He  first  moved  slowly  forward  in  con¬ 
tinuation  of  his  journey ;  and,  as  his  thoughts  still  ran  upon  the 
extraordinary  incident,  he  applied  spurs  to  his  horse’s  side,  and 
gradually  increased  his  pace  from  a  trot  to  a  gallop,  and  from  that 
to  almost  high  speed,  until  he  emerged  from  the  wood  upon  a 
track  of  open  country.  When  he  reached  this  spot  the  day  had 
already  appeared  above  the  eastern  horizon  ;  and  reassured,  as 
the  light  waxed  stronger,  the  dragoon,  by  degrees,  fell  into  his 
customaiy  travelling  pace,  and  resumed  the  equanimity  of  his 
temper. 

About  ten  o’clock  in  the  day  he  reached  Blackstock’s,  where  he 
arrived  in  a  heavy  rain,  that  had  been  falling  for  the  last  three  hours, 
and*  which  had  drenched  him  to  the  skin.  So,  rapidly  dismount 
ing  and  giving  his  horse  into  the  charge  of  some  of  the  idlers 
about  the  door,  he  entered  the  common  room  in  which  were 
assembled  the  greater  part  of  the  militia  guard  and  of  Habershaw’s 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


255 


U’oopers.  His  first  movement  was  to  take  the  burly  captain  aside, 
and  to  communicate  to  him  certain  orders  from  the  commanding 
officer  at  Ninety-Six,  respecting  the  prisoner ;  which  being  done, 
he  mingled  with  his  usual  affectedly  careless  and  mbthful  manner 
amongst  the  thronsj. 

Butler,  through  the  intercession  of  Bruce,  had  been  indulged 
with  some  mitigation  of  the  restraints  at  first  imposed  upon  him  ; 
and  he  was,  at  this  moment,  availing  himself  of  the  privilege  that 
had  been  allowed  him,  on  account  of  the  leaky  condition  of  the 
barn  in  which  he  had  spent  the  night,  to  take  his  morning  meal 
inside  of  the  dwelling-house.  He  was  accordingly  seated  at  a 
table,  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  with  some  eatables  before  him  in  a 
more  comfortable  state  of  preparation  than  he  had  hitherto 
enjoyed.  Two  soldiers  stood  sufficiently  near  to  render  his  custody 
effectual  without  much  personal  annoyance.  As  yet  he  had  been 
unable  to  glean  anything  from  the  conversation  of  those  around 
him,  by  which  he  might  form  the  least  conjecture  as  to  his  probable 
destiny.  His  intercourse  with  his  captors  was  restricted  to  the 
mere  supply  of  his  immediate  wants.  All  other  communication 
was  strictly  interdicted.  Even  Habershaw  himself  seemed  to  be 
under  some  authoritative  command,  to  deny  himself  the  gratifica¬ 
tion  of  either  exhibiting  his  own  importance,  or  of  wreaking  his 
spleen  upon  his  prisoner ;  and  when  Butler  attempted  to  gain 
from  Bruce  some  hint  as  to  what  was  intended,  the  only  answer 
he  received  was  conveyed  by  the  soldier’s  putting  his  finger  on  his 
lip. 

Butler  knew  enough  of  Robinson’s  hardihood  and  venturesome 
disposition,  to  feel  perfectly  confident  that  he  would  make  good 
his  promise  to  be  near  him,  at  whatever  personal  hazard  ;  and  he 
was,  therefore,  in  momentary  expectation  of  receiving  further 
intelligence  from  the  sergeant  in  some  of  those  strange,  bold,  and 
perilous  forms  of  communication,  which  the  character  of  the 
trusty  soldier  warranted  him  in  counting  upon.  His  knowledge  that 
Robinson  had  passed  by  Blackstock’s  on  the  day  preceding,  gave 
him  some  assurance  that  the  sergeant  was  in  the  diligent  prosecu¬ 
tion  of  his  purpose  to  seek  Sumpter,  or  some  other  of  the  partisan 
Whig  corps  in  their  hiding-places,  and  to  try  the  hazardous  experi¬ 
ment  of  his  (jButler’s)  rescue  from  his  present  thraldom,  by  a 


256 


nORSK  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


vigorous  incursion  into  the  district  where  he  was  now  confined 
With  this  calculation  of  the  course  of  events,  he  was  prepared  to 
hear,  at  every  hour  of  the  day,  of  some  sudden  alarm  ;  and  ready 
to  co-operate,  by  seizing  the  fii'st  moment  of  confusion  to  snatch  up 
a  weajion,  and  force  his  ■way  through  the  ranks  of  his  guard.  It 
was  with  such  anticipations  that  now,  whilst  seemingly  engrossed 
with  the  satisfaction  of  his  physical  wants  at  the  table,  he  lent  an 
attentive  ear  to  the  conversation  which  passed  in  the  house  between 
Curry  and  the  company  who  were  clustered  around  him.  The 
dragoon,  at  first,  in  a  light  and  merry  vein  of  narrative,  recounted 
to  his  hearers  the  singular  visitation  he  had  experienced  before 
daybreak ;  and  he  contrived  to  fling  over  his  story  an  additional 
hue  of  mystery,  by  the  occasional  reflections  with  which  he  sea¬ 
soned  it,  tending  to  inculcate  the  belief  to  which  he  himself  partly 
inclined,  that  the  incident  was  brought  about  through  the  agency 
of  some  pranking  and  mischievous  spuit, — a  conclusion  which,  at 
that  period,  and  amongst  the  persons  to  whom  the  adventure  was 
related,  did  not  require  any  great  stretch  of  faith  to  sustain  it. 
Some  of  his  auditors  fortified  this  prevailing  inclination  of  opinion, 
by  expressing  their  own  conviction  of  the  interference  of  malignant 
and  supernatural  influences  in  the  concerns  of  mankind,  and  gave 
their  personal  experience  of  instances  in  which  these  powers  were 
active.  The  conversation  by  degrees  changed  its  tone  from  that 
of  levity  and  laughter  into  one  of  gi’ave  and  somewhat  fearful 
interest,  according  to  the  increasing  marvel  which  the  several 
stories  that  were  told  excited  in  the  superstitious  minds  of  the 
circle ;  and  in  the  same  proportion  that  this  sentiment  took  posses¬ 
sion  of  the  thoughts  of  the  company,  they  became  more  unreserved 
in  their  language,  and  louder  in  the  utterance  of  it,  thus  giving 
Butler  the  full  benefit  of  all  that  was  said. 

“  But,  after  all,”  said  one  of  the  men,  “  mightn’t  you  have  been 
asleep  on  your  horse,  James  Curry,  and  had  a  sort  of  jogging 
dream,  when  a  limb  of  a  tree  across  the  road,  for  it  was  a  dark 
morning,  might  have  caught  you  under  the  throat  and  flung  you 
out  of  your  saddle :  and  you,  not  knowing  whether  you  was  asleep 
or  awake,  for  a  man  who  is  on  duty,  without  his  night’s  rest, 
sometimes  can’t  tell  the  diflference,  thought  it  was  some  hobgoblin 
business  ?  ” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


257 


“No,”  said  Curry,  “  that’s  impossible  ;  for  I  was  singing  a  song 
at  the  time,  and  almost  at  the  top  of  my  voice.  1  had  been 
sleepy  enough  before  that,  just  after  I  left  Ninety-Six,  near  mid-’ 
night,  for  I  had  ridden  a  long  way  ;  but  as  it  grew  towards  day¬ 
light  I  began  to  rouse  up,  so  that  when  this  thing  happened  I  was 
as  much  awake  as  I  am  now.” 

“Then  it’s  a  downright  case  of  ghost,”  said  the  other.  “It 
knew  you  was  upon  a  wicked  errand,  and  so  that  back-handed  blow 
was  a  warning  to  you.  These  things  are  sometimes  meant  to  be 
friendly  ;  and  who  knows  but  this  oversetting  you  in  the  road 
might  have  been  intended  to  signify  that  you  had  better  not 
meddle  in  cases  of  life  and  death.  If  you  would  take  my  advice» 
you  would  just  treat  this  Major  Butler,  that  you  took  prisoner” — 

Curry  looked  at  the  speaker  with  a  frown,  as  he  made  a  motion 
to  him  to  be  silent.  “  Remember  where  you  are,  and  who  may 
hear  you,”  he  said  in  a  cautious  voice,  as  he  glanced  his  eye 
towards  Butler,  who  was  leaning  his  head  upon  the  table,  as  if  in 
slumber. 

“  Oh,  I  understand,”  replied  the  soldier  of  the  guard.  “  I  forgot 
he  was  in  the  room.” 

“  The  weather  holds  up,”  said  Ilabershaw,  who  now  walked  into 
the  house.  “  The  rain  has  slackened ;  and  so,  orderly,  if  you 
have  had  a  bite  of  something  to  eat,  the  boys  had  better  be  got 
ready  to  march.  We  have  a  long  way  to  go,  and  as  the  infantry 
march  with  us  we  shall  get  on  slowl}^” 

“  I  think  so,  noble  Captain,”  replied  Curry.  “  I  shall  be  ready 
to  join  you  before  you  get  your  line  formed.” 

Orders  were  now  issued  by  Ilabersbaw,  both  to  the  troopers  of 
his  own  squad  and  to  the  militia  detachment,  to  put  themselves  in 
condition  for  an  immediate  movement.  The  clouds,  during  the 
last  half  hour,  had  been  breaking  away,  and  the  sun  soon  burst 
forth  upon  the  wet  and  glittering  landscape,  in  all  the  effulgence 
of  mid  summer.  During  a  brief  interval  of  preparation  the  party 
of  infantry  and  cavalry  that  now  occupied  the  hamlet  exhibited 
the  bustle  incident  to  the  gathering  of  the  corp.s.  Some. ran  to 
one  quarter  fo«  their  arms,  others  to  the  stables  for  their  horses  ;  a 
cracked  trumpet  in  the  hands  of  a  lusty  performer,  who  here 
joined  the  troop,  kept  up  a  continual  brapng,  and  was  seconded 


258 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


by  the  ceaseless  beat  of  a  slack  and  dull  drum.  There  were  some 
who,  having  put  on  their  military  equipments,  thronged  the  table 
of  the  common  room  of  the  house,  where  spirits  and  water  had 
been  set  out  for  their  accommodation,  and  rude  jokes,  laughter,  and 
oaths,  were  mingled  together  in  deafening  clamor. 

“  Move  out  the  prisoner,”  shouted  Habershaw  ;  “  he  goes  with 
the  infantiy  afoot.  I’ll  never  trust  another  of  the  tribe  with  a 
horse.” 

“  Follow,  sir,”  said  one  of  the  sentinels  near  Butler’s  person,  as 
he  faced  to  the  right  with  his  musket  at  an  “  advance,”  and  led  the 
way  to  the  door. 

Butler  rose,  and,  before  he  placed  himself  in  the  position 
required,  asked  : 

“  Where  is  it  you  purpose  to  conduct  me  ?” 

“  Silence  !”  said  Habershaw  sternly.  “  Obey  orders,  sh,  and 
march  where  you  are  directed.” 

Butler  folded  his  arms  and  looked  scornfully  at  the  uncouth 
savage  before  him  as  he  replied : 

“  I  am  a  prisoner,  sir,  and  therefore  bound  to  submit  to  the  force 
that  constrains  me.  But  there  will  be  a  day  of  reckoning,  both 
for  you  and  your  master.  It  will  not  be  the  lighter  to  him  for 
having  hired  such  a  ruffian  to  do  the  business  in  which  he  is 
ashamed  to  appear  himself.” 

“  Devil’s  leavings !”  screamed  Habershaw,  almost  choked  with 
choler,  “  dare  you  speak  to  me  so  ?  By  my  heart,  I  have  a  mind 
to  cleave  your  skull  for  you  !  My  master,  sir  !  You  will  find  out, 
before  long,  who  is  master,  when  Hugh  Habershaw  has  tied  the 
knot  that  is  to  fit  your  neck.” 

“  Peace,  villain !”  exclaimed  Butler  ;  “  I  cannot  come  too  soon 
into  the  presence  of  those  who  claim  to  direct  your  motions.” 

Here  James  Curry  interposed  to  draw  off  the  incensed  captain, 
and  Butler,  having  received  another  order  from  the  officer  of  the 
guard,  moved  out  upon  the  road  and  took  the  place  that  was 
assigned  him,  between  two  platoons  of  the  foot  soldiers. 

The  troopers  being  mounted  and  formed  into  column  of  march 
with  Habershaw  and  his  trumpeter  at  the  head  and  Cm-ry  in  the 
rear,  now  moved  forward  at  a  slow  gait,  followed  by  the  detach¬ 
ment  of  infantry  who  had  the  prisoner  under  their  especial  charge. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


259 


It  was  near  noon  when  the  party  took  up  the  line  of  march, 
and  they  prosecuted  their  journey  southward  with  such  expedition 
as  to  tax  Butler’s  powers  to  the  utmost  to  keep  even  pace  with 
them  over  roads  that  were  in  many  places  rendered  miry  by  the 
late  rain.  Towards  evening,  however,  the  sun  had  sufficiently  dried 
the  soil  to  make  the  travel  less  fatiguing ;  and  by  that  hour  when 
the  light  of  day  only  lingered  upon  the  tops  of  the  western  hills, 
the  military  escort,  with  their  prisoner,  were  seen  passing  through 
a  defile  that  opened  upon  their  view  an  extensive  bivouac  of  some 
two  or  three  hundred  horse  and  foot,  and  occupying  a  space  of 
open  field,  encompassed  with  wood  and  guarded  in  its  rear  by  a 
smootli  and  gentle  river. 

The  spot  at  which  they  had  arrived  was  the  camp  of  a  partisan 
corps  under  the  command  of  Colonel  Innis.  A  farm-house  was 
seen  in  the  immediate  neighborhood,  which  was  used  as  the  head¬ 
quarters  of  a  party  of  officers.  Numerous  horses  were  attached 
to  the  trees  that  bounded  the  plain,  and  various  shelters  were 
made  in  the  same  quarter,  in  the  rudest  form  of  accommodation, 
of  branches  and  underwood  set  against  ridge-poles,  that  were  sus¬ 
tained  by  stakes,  to  protect  the  men  against  the  weather.  Groups 
of  this  irregular  soldiery  were  scattered  over  the  plain,  a  few 
wagons  were  seen  collected  in  one  direction,  and,  not  far  off,  a  line 
of  fires,  around  which  parties  were  engaged  in  cooking  food.  Here 
and  there  a  sentinel  was  seen  pacing  his  short  limits,  and  occa¬ 
sionally  the  roll  of  a  drum  and  the  flourish  of  a  fife  announced 
some  ceremony  of  the  camp  police. 

The  escort  marched  quickly  across  this  plain  until  it  arrived  in 
front  of  the  farm-house.  Here  a  guard  was  drawn  up  to  receive 
them  ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  usual  military  salute  was  passed  and 
the  order  to  “  stand  at  ease  ”  given,  Habershaw  put  the  detachment 
under  the  command  of  the  lieutenant  of  infantry,  and,  accom¬ 
panied  by  Curry,  walked  into  the  house  to  make  his  report  to  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  post. 

In  a  few  moments  afterwards  Colonel  Innis,  attended  by  two  or 
three  military  men — some  of  whom  wore  the  uniform  of  the 
British  regular  army — came  from  the  house  and  passed  hastily 
along  the  line  of  the  escort,  surveying  Butler  only  with  a  rapid 
glance.  Having  regained  the  door,  he  was  heard  to  say — 


260 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  It  is  very  well ;  let  the  jwisoner  have  a  room  above  staii-s. 
See  that  he  wants  nothing  proper  to  his  situation ;  and,  above  all, 
be  attentive  that  he  be  kept  scrupulously  under  the  eye  of  his 
guard.” 

When  this  order  was  given,  the  Colonel  retired  with  his  attend¬ 
ants  to  his  quarters,  and  Butler  was  forthwith  conducted,  by  a  file 
of  men,  up  a  narrow,  winding  stair,  to  a  small  apartment  in  the 
angle  of  the  roof,  where  he  was  provided  with  a  chair,  a  light,  and 
a  comfortable  bed.  His  door  was  left  open,  and  on  the  outside 
of  it,  full  in  his  view,  was  posted  a  sentinel.  He  was  too  weary  even 
to  be  ti’oubled  with  the  cares  of  his  present  condition ;  and,  without 
waiting,  therefore,  for  food,  or  seeking  to  inquire  into  whose  hands 
he  had  fallen,  or  even  to  turn  his  thoughts  upon  the  mysterious 
train  of  circumstances  that  hung  over  him,  he  flung  himself  upon 
the  couch  and  sank  into  a  profound  and  grateful  sleep. 


CHAriER  XXII. 


AN  ADVENTURE  WHEREIN  IT  IS  APPARENT  THAT  THE  ACTIONS  OF 

REAL  LIFE  ARE  FULL  AS  MARVELLOUS  AS  THE  INVENTIONS  OF 

ROMANCE. 

David  Ramsay’s  house  was  situated  on  a  by-road,  between  five 
and  six  miles  from  Musgi'ove’s  mill,  and  at  about  the  distance  of 
one  mile  from  the  principal  route  of  travel  between  Ninety-six  and 
Blackstock’s.  In  passing  from  the  military  post  that  had  been 
established  at  the  former  place,  towards  the  latter,  Ramsay’s  lay  off 
to  the  left,  with  a  piece  of  dense  wood  intervening.  The  by-way, 
leading  through  the  farm,  diverged  from  the  main  road,  and  tra¬ 
versed  this  wood  until  it  reached  the  cultivated  grounds  immediate¬ 
ly  around  Ramsay’s  dwelling.  In  the  journey  fi'om  Musgrove’s 
mill  to  this  point  of  divergence,  the  traveller  was  obliged  to  ride 
some  two  or  three  miles  upon  the  great  road  leading  from  the 
British  garrison,-  a  road  that,  at  the  time  of  my  story,  was  much 
frequented  by  military  parties,  scouts,  and  patroles,  that  were  con¬ 
cerned  in  keeping  up  the  communication  between  the  several  posts 
which  were  established  by  the  British  authorities  along  that  fron¬ 
tier.  Amongst  the  whig  parties,  also,  there  were  various  occasions 
which  brought  them  under  the  necessity  of  frequent  passage 
through  this  same  district,  and  which,  therefore,  furnished  oiipor- 
tunities  for  collision  and  skirmish  with  the  opposite  forces. 

It  is  a  matter  of  historical  notoriety,  that  immediately  after  the 
fall  of  Charleston,  and  the  rapid  subjugation  of  South  Carolina 
that  followed  this  event,  there  were  three  bold  and  skilful  soldiers 
who  undertook  to  carry  on  the  war  of  resistance  to  the  established 
authorities,  upon  a  settled  and  digested  plan  of  annoyance,  under 
the  most  discouraging  state  of  destitution,  as  regarded  all  the 
means  of  oflFence,  that,  perhaps,  history  records.  It  will  not  de¬ 
tract  from  the  fame  of  other  patriots  of  similar  enthusiasm  and  of 


262 


H  OB  SB-  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

equal  bravery,  to.  jHcn'tioii  the- names  of  Marion,  Sumpter,  and 
Pickens,  in.jseiinexion  -with  this  jilan  of  keeping  up  an  apparently 
hopeless  partisan  -warfare,  -which  had  the  :]>romise  neither  of  men, 
money,  nor  arms, — and  yet  which  was  so  nobly  ^stained,  amidst 
accumulated  discomfitures,  as  to  lead  eventually  to  the  subversion 
of  the  “  Tory  ascendency  ”  and  the  expulsion  orthe  British  power. 
According  to  the  plan  of  operations  concerted  amongst  these  chief¬ 
tains,  Marion  took  the  lower  country  under  his  super-vdsion ; 
Pickens  the  south-western  districts,  bordering  udon.  the  Savannah  ; 
and  to  Sumpter  was  allotted  all  that  tract  oft  country  lying  be¬ 
tween  the  Broad  and  the  Catawba  rivers,  from 'the  angle  of  their 
junction,  below  Camden,  up  to  the  mountain  districts  of  North 
Carolina.  How  faithfully  these  men  made  good  their  promise  to 
the  country,  is  not  only  written  in  authentic  history,  but  it  is  also 
told  in  many  a  legend  amongst  the  older  inhabitants  of  the  region 
that  was  made  the  theatre  of  action.  It  only  concerns  my  story 
to  refer  to  the  fact,  that  the  events  which  have  occupied  my  last 
five  or  six  chapters,  occurred  in  that  range  more  peculiarly  appro¬ 
priated  to  Sumpter,  and  that  the  high  road  from  Blackstock’s 
towards  Ninety-six  was  almost  as  necessary  for  communication  be¬ 
tween  Sumpter  and  Pickens,  as  between  the  several  British  gar¬ 
risons. 

On  the  morning  that  succeeded  the  night  in  which  Horse  Shoe 
Eobinson  arrived  at  Musgvove’s,  the  stout  and  honest  sergeant 
might  have  been  seen,  about  eight  o’clock,  leaving  the  main  road 
from  Ninety-six,  at  the  point  where  that  leading  to  David  Eam- 
say’s  separated  from  it,  and  cautiously  urging  his  way  into  the 
deep  foi-est,  by  the  more  private  path  into  which  he  had  entered. 
The  knowledge  that  Innis  was  encamped  along  the  Ennoree,  within 
a  short  distance  of  the  mill,  had  compelled  him  to  make  an  exten¬ 
sive  circuit  to  reach  Ramsay’s  dwelling,  whither  he  was  now  bent ; 
and  he  had  experienced  considerable  delay  in  his  morning  journey, 
by  finding  himself  frequently  in  the  neighborhood  of  small  forag¬ 
ing  parties  of  Tories,  whose  motions  he  was  obliged  to  watch  for 
fear  of  an  encounter.  He  had  once  already  been  compelled  to  use 
his  horse’s  heels  in  what  he  called  “  fair  flight and  once  to  en¬ 
sconce  himself,  a  full  half  hour,  under  cover  of  the  thicket  afford¬ 
ed  him  by  a  swamp.  He  now,  therefore,  according  to  his  own 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


263 


phrase,  “dived  into  the  little  road  that  scrambled  down  through 
the  woods  towards  Ramsay’s,  with  all  his  eyes  about  him,  looting 
out  as  sharply  as  a  fox  on  a  foggy  morning and  with  this  cir¬ 
cumspection,  he  was  not  long  in  arriving  within  view  of  Ramsay’s 
house.  Like  a  practised  soldier,  wh9m  frequent  frays  has  taught 
wisdom,  he  resolved  to  reconnoitre  before  he  advanced  upon  a  post 
that  might  be  in  possession  of  an  enemy.  lie  therefore  dismount¬ 
ed,  fastened  his  horse  in  a  fence  corper,  where  a  field  of  corn  con-* 
cealed  him  from  notice,  and  then  stealthily  crept  forward  until  he 
came  immediately  behind  one  of  the  out-houses. 

The  barking  of  a  house-dog  brought  out  a  negro  boy,  to  whom 
Robinson  instantly  addressed  the  query — 

“  Is  your  master  at^ome  ?” — 

“  No,  sir.  He’s  got  his  horse,  and  gone  oflf  more  than  an  hour 
ago.” 

“  Where  is  your  mistress  ?” 

“  Shelling  beans.  Sir.” 

“  I  didn’t  ask  you,”  said  the  sergeant,  “  what  she  is  doing,  but 
where  she  is.” 

“  In  course,  she  is  in  the  house.  Sir,” — replied  the  negrp^  with  a 
gi-in. 

“  Any  strangers  there  ?” 

“  There  was  plenty  on  ’em  a  little  while  ago,  but  they’ve  been 
gone  a  good  bit.” 

Robinson  having  thus  satisfied  himself  as  to  the  safety  of  his 
visit,  directed  the  boy  to  take  his  horse  and  lead  him  up  to  the 
door.  He  then  entered  the  dwelling. 

“  Mistress  Ramsay,”  said  he,  walking  up  to  the  dame,  who  was 
occupied  at  a  table,  with  a  large  trencher  before  her,  in  which  she 
was  plying  that  household  thrift  which  the  negro  described ;  “  luck 
to  you,  ma’am,  and  all  your  house !  I  hope  you  haven’t  none  of 
these  clinking  and  clattering  bullies  about  you,  that  are  as  thick 
over  this  country  as  the  frogs  in  the  kneading  troughs,  that  they 
tell  of.” 

“  Good  lack,  Mr.  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,”  exclaimed  the  matron, 
offering  the  sergeant  her  hand.  “  What  has  brought  you  here  ? 
What  news  ?  Who  are  with  you  ?  For  patience  sake,  tell  me  1” 

“  I  am  alone,”  said  Robinson,  “  and  a  little  wettish,  mistress 


2a4 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


he  added,  as  he  took  off  his  hat  and  shook  the  water  from  it : 
“it  has  just  sot  up  a  rain,  and  looks  as  if  it  was  going  to  give  us 
enough  on’t.  You  don’t  mind  doing  a  little  dinner-work  of  a 
Sunday,  I  see — shelling  of  beans,  I  s’pose,  is  tantamount  to  drag¬ 
ging  a  sheep  out  of  a  pond,  as  the  preachers  allow  on  the  Sabbath 
— ha,  ha  ! — Where’s  Davy  ?” . 

“  He’s  gone  over  to  the  meeting-house  on  Ennoree,  hoping  to 
hear  something  of  the  army  at  Camden  :  perhaps  you  can  tell  us 
the  news  from  that  quarter  ?” 

“  Faith,  that’s  a  mistake.  Mistress  Ramsay.  Though  I  don’t 
doubt  that  they  are  hard  upon  the  scratches,  by  this  time.  But, 
at  this  present  speaking,  I  command  the  flying  artillery.  We  have 
but  one  man  in  the  corps — and  that’s  myself ;  and  all  the  guns 
we  have  got  is  this  piece  of  ordnance,  that  hangs  in  this  old  belt 
by  my  side  (pointing  to  his  sword) — and  that  I  captured  from  the 
enemy  at  Blackstock’s.  I  was  hoping  I  mought  find  John  Ram¬ 
say  at  home — I  have  need  of  him  as  a  recruit.” 

“  Ah,  Mr.  Robinson,  John  has  a  heavy  life  of  it  over  there  with 
Sumpter.  The  boy  is  often  Avithout  his  natural  rest,  or  a  meal’s 
victuals ;  and  the  general  thinks  so  much  of  him,  that  he  can’t 
spare  him  to  come  home.  I  hav’n’t  the  heart  to  complain,  as  long 
as  John’s  service  is  of  any  use,  but  it  does  seem,  Mr.  Robinson,  like 
needless  tempting  of  the  mercies  of  providence.  We  thought  that 
he  might  have  been  here  to-day ;  yet  I  am  glad  he  didn’t  come — 
for  he  would  have  been  certain  to  get  into  trouble.  Who  should 
come  in,  this  morning,  just  after  my  husband  had  cleverly  got  away 
on  his  horse,  but  a  young  cock-a-whoop  ensign,  that  belongs  to 
Ninety-Six,  and  four  great  Scotchmen  with  him,  all  in  red  coats  ; 
they  had  been  out  thieving,  I  warrant,  and  Avere  noAv  going  home 
again.  And  Avho  but  they  !  Here  they  were,  swaggering  all 
about  my  house — and  calling  for  this — and  calling  for  that^ — as  if 
they  OAvncd  the  fee-simple  of  everything  on  the  plantation.  And 
it  made  my  blood  rise,  hlr.  Horse  Shoe,  to  see  them  run  out  in  the 
yanl,  and  catch  up  my  chickens  and  ducks,  and  kill  as  many  as 
they  could  string  about  them — and  I  not  daring  to  say  a  Avord  : 
though  I  did  give  them  a  piece  of  my  mind,  too.” 

“  Who  is  at  home  with  you  ?”  inquired  the  sergeant  eagerly. 

“  Nobody  but  my  youngest  boy,  Andrew,”  answered  the  dame. 


HOESE  SLIOE  EOBINSON. 


266 


“  And  then,  the  filthy,  toping  rioters — ”  she  continued,  exalting  her 
voice. 

“  What  arms  have  you  in  the  house  ?”  asked  Robinson,  without 
heeding  the  dame’s  rising  anger. 

“  We  have  a  rifle,  and  a  horseman’s  pistol  that  belongs  to  John. — 
They  must  call  for  drink,  too,  and  turn  my  house,  of  a  Sunday 
morning,  into  a  tavern.” 

“  They  took  the  route  towards  Ninety-Six,  you  said.  Mistress 
Ramsay  ?” 

“  Yes, — they  went  straight  forward  upon  the  road.  But,  look 
you,  Mr.  Horse  Shoe,  you’re  not  thinking  of  going  after  them 

“  Isn’t  there  an  old  field,  about  a  mile  from  this,  on  that  road  ?” 
inquired  the^sergeant,  still  intent  upon  his  own  thoughts. 

“  There  is,”  replied  the  dame  ;  “  with  the  old  school-house  upon 
it.” 

“  A  lop-sided,  rickety  log-cabin  in  the  middle  of  the  field.  Am 
I  right,  good  woman  ?” 

“  Yes.” 

“  And  nobody  lives  in  it  ?  It  has  no  door  to  it  ?” 

“  There  ha’n’t  been  anybody  in  it  these  seven  years.” 

“  I  know  the  place  very  well,”  said  the  sergeant,  thoughtfully  ; 
“  there  is  woods  just  on  this  side  of  it.” 

“  That’s  true,”  replied  the  dame  :  “  but  what  is  it  you  are  think¬ 
ing  about,  Mr.  Robinson  ?” 

“  How  long  before  this  rain  began  was  it  that  they  quitted  this 
house  ?” 

“  Not  above  fifteen  minutes.” 

“  Mistress  Ramsay,  bring  me  the  rifle  and  pistol  both — and  the 
powder-horn  and  bullets.” 

“  As  you  say,  Mr.  Horse  Shoe,”  answered  the  dame,  as  she  turned 
round  to  leave  the  room ;  “  but  I  am  sure  I  can’t  suspicion  what 
you  mean  to  do.” 

In  a  few  moments  the  woman  returned  with  the  weapons,  and 
gave  them  to  the  sergeant. 

“  'Wliere  is  Andy  ?”  asked  Horse  Shoe. 

The  hostess  went  to  the  door  and  called  her  son,  and,  almost  im¬ 
mediately  afterwards,  a  sturdy  boy  of  about  twelve  or  fourteen 
years  of  age  entered  the  apartment,  his  clothes  dripping  with  rain. 

12 


266 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


He  modestly  and  shyly  seated  himself  on  a  chair  near  the  door, 
with  his  soaked  hat  flapping  down  over  a  face  full  of  freckles,  and 
not  less  rife  with  the  expression  of  an  open,  dauntless  hardihood  of 
character. 

“  How  would  you  like  a  scrummage,  Andy,  with  them  Scotch¬ 
men  that  stole  your  mother’s  chickens  this  morning  ?”  asked  Horse 
Shoe. 

“  I’m  agreed,”  replied  the  boy,  “  if  you  will  tell  me  what  to  do.” 

“  Y  ou  are  not  going  to  take  the  hoy  out  on  any  of  your  despe¬ 
rate  projects,  Mr.  Horse  Shoe  ?”  said  the  mother,  with  the  tears 
starting  instantly  into  her  eyes.  “  You  wouldn’t  take  such  a  child 
as  that  into  danger  ?” 

“  Bless  your  soul,  Mrs.  Ramsay,  there  ar’n’t  no  danger  about  it ! 
Don’t  take  on  so.  It’s  a  thing  that  is  either  done  at  a  blow,  or  not 
done, — and  there’s  an  end  of  it.  I  want  the  lad  only  to  bring 
home  the  prisoners  for  me,  after  I  have  took  them.” 

“  Ah,  Mr.  Robinson,  I  have  one  son  already  in  these  wars — God 
protect  him  ! — and  you  men  don’t  know  how  a  mother’s  heart 
yearns  for  her  children  in  these  times.  I  cannot  give  another,”  she 
added,  as  she  threw  her  arms  over  the  shoulders  of  the  youth  and 
drew  him  to  her  bosom. 

“  Oh  !  it  aint  nothing,”  said  Andrew,  in  a  sprightly  tone.  “  It’s 
only  snapping  of  a  pistol,  mother, — pooh  !  If  I’m  not  afraid,  you 
oughtn’t  to  be.” 

“  I  give  you  my  honor.  Mistress  Ramsay,”  said  Robinson,  “  that 
I  will  bring  or  send  your  son  safe  back  in  one  hour ;  and  that  he 
sha’n’t  be  put  in  any  sort  of  danger  whatsomedever  :  come,  that’s  a 
good  woman  !” 

“  You  are  not  deceiving  me,  Mr.  Robinson  ?”  asked  the  matron, 
wiping  away  a  tear.  “  You  wouldn’t  mock  the  sufferings  of  a 
weak  woman  in  such  a  thing  as  this  ?” 

“  On  the  honesty  of  a  sodger,  ma’am,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  “  the 
lad  shall  be  in  no  danger,  as  I  said  before — whatsomedever.” 

“  Then  I  will  say  no  more,”  answered  the  mother.  “  But  Andy, 
my  child,  be  sure  to  let  Mr.  Robinson  keep  before  you.” 

Horse  Shoe  now  loaded  the  fire-arms,  and  having  slung  the 
pouch  across  his  body,  he  put  the  pistol  into  the  hands  of  the  boy ; 
then  shouldering  his  rifle,  he  and  his  young  ally  left  the  room. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


267 


Even  on  this  occasion,  serious  as  it  might  be  deemed,  the  sergeant 
did  not  depart  without  giving  some  manifestation  of  that  light¬ 
heartedness  which  no  difHculties  ever  seemed  to  have  the  power 
to  conquer.  He  thrust  his  head  back  into  the  room,  after  he  had 
crossed  the  threshold,  and  said  with  an  encouraging  laugh,  “  Andy 
and  me  will  teach  them,  Mistress  Ramsay,  Pat’s  point  of  war — we 
will  svrround  the  ragamufBns.” 

“Now, Andy, my  lad,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  after  he  had  mounted 
Captain  Peter,  “  you  must  get  up  behind  me.  Turn  the  lock  of 
your  pistol  down,”  he  continued,  as  the  boy  sprang  upon  the  hoi-se’s 
rump,  “  and  cover  it  with  the  flap  of  your  jacket,  to  keep  the  rain 
ofl".  It  won’t  do  to  hang  fire  at  such  a  time  as  this.” 

The  lad  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  Horse  Shoe,  having  secured 
his  rifle  in  the  same  way,  put  his  horse  up  to  a  gaUop,  and  took  the 
road  in  the  direction  that  had  been  pursued  by  the  soldiers. 

As  soon  as  our  adventurers  had  gained  a  wood,  at  the  distance 
of  about  half  a  mile,  the  sergeant  relaxed  his  speed,  and  advanced 
at  a  pace  a  little  above  a  walk. 

“  Andy,”  he  said,  “  we  have  got  rather  a  ticklish  sort  of  a  job 
before  us,  so  I  must  give  you  your  lesson,  which  you  will  under¬ 
stand  better  by  knowing  something  of  my  plan.  As  soon  as  your 
mother  told  me  that  these  thieving  villains  had  left  her  house 
about  fifteen  minutes  before  the  rain  came  on,  and  that  they  had 
gone  along  upon  this  road,  I  remembered  the  old  field  up  here,  and 
the  little  log  hut  in  the  middle  of  it ;  and  it  was  natural  to  sup¬ 
pose  that  they  had  just  got  about  near  that  hut,  when  this  rain, 
came  up ;  and  then,  it  was  the  most  supposable  case  in  the  world,! 
that  they  would  naturally  go  into  it,  as  the  driest  place  they  couldi 
find.  So  now,  you  see,  it’s  my  calculation  that  the  whole  batch  is 
there  at  this  very  point  of  time.  AVe  will  go  slowly  along,  until  we 
get  to  the  other  end  of  this  wood,  in  sight  of  the  old  field,  and 
then,  if  there  is  no  one  on  the  look-out,  we  will  open  our  first 
trench ;  you  know  what  that  means,  Andy  ?” 

“  It  means,  I  s’pose,  that  we’ll  go  right  smack  at  them,”  replied 
Andrew. 

“  Pretty  exactly,”  said  the  sergeant.  “  But  listen  to  me.  Just 
at  the  edge  of  the  woods  you  will  have  to  get  down,  and  put  your¬ 
self  behind  a  tree.  I’ll  ride  forward,  as  if  I  had  a  whole  troop  at 


268 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


my  heels,  and  if  I  catch  them,  as  I  expect,  they  will  have  a  little 
&e  kindled,  and,  as  likely  as  not,  they’ll  he  cooking  some  of  your 
mother’s  fowls.” 

“  Yes,  I  understand,”  said  the  boy  eagerly — 

“  No,  you  don’t,”  replied  Horse  Shoe,  “  but  you  will  when  you 
hear  what  I  am  going  to  say.  If  I  get  at  them  onawares,  they’ll 
be  mighty  apt  to  think  they  are  surrounded,  and  Avill  bellow,  like 
fine  fellows,  for  quarter.  And,  thereupon,  Andy,  I’ll  cry  out 
‘  stand  fast,’  as  if  I  was  speaking  to  my  own  men,  and  when  you 
hear  that,  you  must  come  ujr  full  tilt,  because  it  will  be  a  sig-nal  to 
you  that  the  enemy  has  surrendered.  Then  it  will  be  your  business 
to  run  into  the  house  and  bring  out  the  muskets,  as  quick  as  a  rat 
runs  through  a  kitchen :  and  when  you  have  done  that,  why,  all’s 
done.  But  if  you  should  hear  any  popping  of  fire-arms — that  is, 
more  than  one  shot,  which  I  may  chance  to  let  off — do  you  take 
that  for  a  bad  sign,  and  get  away  as  fast  as  you  can  heel  it.  You 
comprehend.” 

“  Oh !  yes,”  replied  the  lad,  “  and  I’ll  do  what  you  want,  and  more 
too,  may  be,  Mr.  Robinson.” 

“  Captain  Robinson, — remember,  Andy,  you  must  call  me  cap 
tain,  in  the  hearing  of  these  Scotsmen.” 

“  I’ll  not  forget  that  neither,”  answered  Andrew. 

By  the  time  that  these  instructions  were  fully  impressed  upon 
the  boy,  our  adventurous  forlorn  hope,  as  it  may  fitly  be  called, 
had  arrived  at  the  place  which  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  had  desig¬ 
nated  for  the  commencement  of  active  operations.  They  had  a 
clear  view  of  the  old  field,  and  it  afforded  them  a  strong  assurance 
that  the  enemy  was  exactly  where  they  wished  him  to  be,  when 
they  discovered  smoke  arising  from  the  chimney  of  the  hovel. 
Andrew  was  soon  posted  behind  a  tree,  and  Robinson  only  tamed 
a  moment  to  make  the  boy  repeat  the  signals  agreed  on,  in  order 
to  ascertain  that  he  had  them  correctly  in  his  memory.  Being 
satisfied  from  this  experiment  that  the  intelligence  of  his  young 
companion  might  be  depended  upon,  he  galloped  across  the  inter¬ 
vening  space,  and,  in  a  few  seconds,  abruptly  reined  up  his  steed, 
in  the  very  doorway  of  the  hut.  The  party  within  was  gathered 
around  a  fire  at  the  further  end,  and,  in  the  corner  near  the  door, 
were  four  muskets  thrown  together  against  the  wall.  To  spring 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


269 


from  his  saddle  and  thrust  himself  one  pace  inside  of  the  door,  was 
a  movement  which  the  sergeant  executed  in  an  instant,  shouting  at 
the  same  time — 

“  Halt !  File  off  right  and  left  to  both  sides  of  the  house,  and 
wait  orders.  I  demand  the  surrender  of  all  here,”  he  said,  as  he 
planted  himself  between  the  party  and  their  weapons.  “  I  will 
shoot  down  the  fii'st  man  who  budges  a  foot.” 

“  Leap  to  your  arms,”  cried  the  young  officer  who  commanded 
the  httle  party  inside  of  the  house.  “  Why  do  you  stand  ?” 

“  I  don’t  want  to  do  you  or  your  men  any  harm,  young  man,” 
said  Eobinson,  as  he  brought  his  rifle  to  a  level,  “  but,  by  my 
father’s  son,  I  will  not  leave  one  of  you  to  be  put  upon  a  muster- 
roll  if  you  raise  a  hand  at  this  moment.” 

Both  parties  now  stood,  for  a  brief  space,  eyeing  each  other  in 
a  fearful  suspense,  during  which  there  was  an  expression  of  doubt 
and  irresolution  visible  on  the  countenances  of  the  soldiers,  as 
they  surveyed  the  broad  proportions,  and  met  the  stern  glance  of 
the  sergeant,  whilst  the  delay,  also,  began  to  raise  an  appre¬ 
hension  in  the  mind  of  Robinson  that  his  stratagem  would  be  dis¬ 
covered. 

“  Shall  I  let  loose  upon  them,  captain  ?  ”  said  Andi-ew  Ramsay, 
now  appearing,  most  unexpectedly  to  Robinson,  at  the  door  of  the 
hut.  “  Come  on,  boys !  ”  he  shouted,  as  he  turned  his  face  towards 
the  field. 

“  Keep  them  outside  of  the  door — stand  fast,”  cried  the  doughty 
sergeant,  with  admirable  promptitude,  in  the  new  and  sudden  pos¬ 
ture  of  his  affairs  caused  by  this  oj^ortune  appearance  of  the 
boy.  “  Sir,  you  see  that  it’s  not  worth  while  fighting  five  to  one ; 
and  I  should  be  sorry  to  be  the  death  of  any  of  your  brave  fel¬ 
lows  ;  so,  take  my  advice,  and  surrender  to  the  Continental  Con¬ 
gress  and  this  scrap  of  its  army  which  I  command.” 

Diu’ing  this  appeal  the  sergeant  was  ably  seconded  by  the  lad 
outside,  who  was  calling  out  first  on  one  name,  and  then  on  ano¬ 
ther,  as  if  in  the  presence  of  a  troop.  The  device  succeeded,  and 
the  officer  within,  believing  the  forbearance  of  Robinson  to  be 
real,  at  length  said  : — 

“  Lower  yom-  rifle,  sir.  In  the  presence  of  a  superior  force,  taken 
by  surprise,  and  without  arms,  it  is  my  duty  to  save  bloodshed. 


270 


HORSK  SIIOB  ROBINSON. 


Witli  the  promise  of  fair  usage,  and  the  rights  of  prisoners  of  war, 
I  surrender  this  little  foraging  party  under  my  command.” 

“  ni  make  the  terms  agreeable,”  replied  the  sergeant.  “Never 
doubt  me,  sir.  Eight  hand  file,  advance,  and  receive  the  arms  of 
the  prisoners !  ” 

“  I’m  here,  captain,”  said  Andrew,  in  a  conceited  tone,  as  if  it 
were  a  mere  occasion  of  merriment ;  and  the  lad  quickly  entered  the 
house  and  secm’ed  the  weapons,  retreating  with  them  some  paces 
from  the  door. 

“Now,  sir,”  said  Horse  Shoe  to  the  Ensign,  “your  sword,  and 
whatever  else  you  mought  have  about  you  of  the  ammunitions  of 
war !  ” 

The  officer  delivered  up  his  sword  and  a  pair  of  pocket  pistols. 

As  Horse  Shoe  received  these  tokens  of  victory,  he  asked,  with  a 
lambent  smile,  and  what  he  intended  to  be  an  elegant  ,  and  conde¬ 
scending  composure,  “  Your  name,  sir,  if  I  mought  take  the  fi’eedom  ?” 

“  Ensign  St.  Jermyn,  of  his  Majesty’s  seventy-first  regiment  of 
light  infantry.” 

“  Ensign,  your  sarvent,”  added  Horse  Shoe,  still  preserving  this 
unusual  exhibition  of  politeness.  “  You  have  defended  your  post 
like  an  old  sodger,  although  you  ha’n’t  much  beard  on  your  chin ; 
but,  seeing  you  have  given  up,  you  shall  be  treated  like  a  man 
who  has  done  his  duty.  You  will  walk  out,  now,  and  form  your¬ 
selves  in  line  at  the  door.  I’ll  engage  my  men  shall  do  you  no 
harm ;  they  are  of  a  marciful  breed.” 

When  the  little  squad  of  prisoners  submitted  to  this  command, 
and  came  to  the  door,  they  were  stricken  with  equal  astonishment 
and  mortification  to  find,  in  place  of  the  detachment  of  cavahy 
which  they  expected  to  see,  nothing  but  a  man,  a  boy,  and  a  horse. 
Their  first  emotions  were  expressed  in  curses,  which  were  even  suc¬ 
ceeded  by  laughter  from  one  or  two  of  the  number.  There  seemed 
to  be  a  disposition  on  the  part  of  some  to  resist  the  authority  that 
now  controlled  them ;  and  sundry  glances  were  exchanged,  which 
Indicated  a  purpose  to  turn  upon  theu-  captors.  The  sergeant  no 
sooner  perceived  this,  than  he  halted,  raised  his  rifle  to  his  breast, 
and,  at  the  same  instant,  gave  Andrew  Eamsay  an  order  to  retire 
a  few  paces,  and  to  fire  one  of  the  captured  pieces  at  the  first  man 
■who  opened  his  lips. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


271 


“By  my  haad,”  he  said,  “  if  I  find  any  trouble  in  taking  you, 
all  five,  safe  away  from  this  here  house,  I  will  thin  your  numbers 
with  your  own  muskets !  And  that’s  as  good  as  if  I  had  sworn 
to  it.” 

“You  have  my  word,  sir,”  said  the  Ensign.  “  Lead  on.” 

“  By  your  leave,  my  pretty  gentleman,  you  will  lead,  and  I’ll 
follow,”  replied  Horse  Shoe.  “  It  may  be  a  new  piece  of  drill  to 
you  •;  but  the  custom  is  to  give  the  prisoners  the  post  of  honor.” 

“As  you  please,  sir,”  answered  the  Ensign.  “  Where  do  you  take 
us  to  ?  ” 

“  You  will  march  back  by  the  road  you  came,”  said  the  ser¬ 
geant. 

Finding  the  conqueror  determined  to  execute  summary  martial 
law  upon  the  first  who  should  mutiny,  the  prisoners  submitted,  and 
marched  in  double  file  fi-om  the  hut  back  towards  Ramsay’s — 
Horse  Shoe,  with  Captain  Peter’s  bridle  dangling  over  his  arm, 
and  his  gallant  young  auxiliary  Andrew,  laden  with  double  the 
burden  of  Robinson  Crusoe  (having  all  the  fire-arms  packed  upon 
his  shoulders),  bringing  up  the  rear.  In  this  order  victors  and 
vanquished  returned  to  David  Ramsay’s. 

“  Well,  I  have  brought  you  your  ducks  and  chickens  back,  mis¬ 
tress,”  said  the  sergeant,  as  he  halted  the  prisoners  at  the  door ; 
“  and,  what’s  more,  I  have  brought  home  a  young  sodgar  that’s 
worth  his  weight  in  gold.” 

“  Heaven  bless  my  child !  my  brave  boy !  ”  cried  the  mother, 
seizing  the  lad  in  her  arms,  and  unheeding  anything  else  in  the 
present  perturbation  of  her  feelings.  “  I  feared  ill  would  come  of 
it ;  but  Heaven  has  preserved  him.  Did  he  behave  handsomely, 
Mr.  Robinson  ?  But  I  am  sure  he  did.” 

“A  little  more  venturesome,  ma’am,  than  I  wanted  him  to  be,” 
replied  Horse  Shoe ;  “  but  he  did  excellent  service.  These  are  his 
prisoners.  Mistress  Ramsay ;  I  should  never  have  got  them  if  it 
hadn’t  been  for  Andy.  In  these  drumming  and  fifing  times  the 
babies  suck  in  quarrel  with  their  mother’s  milk.  Show  me  another 
boy  in  America  that’s  made  more  prisoners  than  there  was  men  to 
fight  them  with,  that’s  all !  ” 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 


SHOWING  HOW  A  GOOD  SOLDIER  WILL  TURN  THE  ACCIDENTS  OF 
WAR  TO  THE  BEST  ACCOUNT.  ENSIGN  ST.  JERMYN  IN  A  DIS¬ 
AGREEABLE  DILEMMA. 

Robinson  having  thus  succeeded  in  his  enterprise,  now  found 
himself  in  circumstances  of  peculiar  perplexity  in  regard  to  the 
disposal  of  his  prisoners.  Here  he  was,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  British  posts — in  a  district  of  country  of  which  the  enemy 
might  be  said  to  have,  at  this  moment,  complete  possession — (for 
Horse  Shoe  himself  was  almost  the  only  belligerent  in  the  field 
against  them) — and,  more  than  that,  he  was  but  a  few  miles’  dis¬ 
tant  from  a  camp  whose  scouts  had  chased  him  almost  to  his  pre¬ 
sent  place  of  refuge.  It  was  scarcely  probable,  therefore,  that  he 
could  hope  to  retain  his  captives  long  under  his  control,  or  prevent 
the  enemy  from  receiving  intelligence  of  the  capture.  He  was, 
however,  notwithstanding  these  embarrassments,  as  usual,  cheerful, 
confident,  and  self-possessed.  He  had  no  wish  or  motive  to  detain 
the  private  soldiers  as  prisoners  of  war,  and  would  at  once  have 
dismissed  them,  if  he  could  have  assured  himself  that  they  would 
not  make  the  earliest  use  of  their  liberty  to  convey  information  of 
their  misadventure  to  the  first  corps  of  loyalists  they  should  meet, 
and  thus  get  up  a  hot  pursuit  of  him  through  the  whole  district. 
But  he  had  cogent  and  most  important  reasons  for  holding  the 
ensign,  St.  Jermyn,  in  close  custody.  It  occurred  to  him,  that  this 
officer  might  be  used  to  control  the  procedure  that  should  be 
adopted  by  those  who  meditated  injury  to  Arthur  Butler  ;  and  he, 
therefore,  at  once  formed  the  resolution  of  communicating  with  the 
nearest  British  authorities,  in  order  to  assure  them  that  he  would 
retaliate  upon  the  Ensign  any  pain  that  might  be  inflicted  npon 
his  late  comrade.  His  plan  was  speedily  formed — it  was  to  keep 
his  prisoners  until  night-fall,  move  off  under  cover  of  the  darkness, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


2^73 


to  some  remote  and  concealed  spot  with  St.  Jermyn,  and  release 
the  others,  on  their  parole  or  pledge  not  to  take  up  arms  until 
regularly  exchanged. 

Whilst  the  sergeant  was  deliberating  over  these  arrangements, 
the  prisoners  were  allowed  to  shelter  themselves  from  the  rain 
under  a  shed  near  the  door  of  the  dwelling,  where  Andrew,  with 
all  the  pride  and  importance  of  his  new  station,  marched  to  and 
fro,  before  them,  like  a  trained  sentinel.  There  was  a  small  log 
building  in  the  yard  of  Ramsay’s  mansion,  which  had  been  i-ecently 
erected  as  a  store-house,  and  which  being  well  secured  at  the  door 
by  a  padlock,  Robinson  determined  to  convert  for  the  nonce  into 
a  prison.  It  contained  but  one  room,  not  above  twelve  feet  square, 
with  an  earthen  floor,  and  received  no  light  except  such  as  was 
admitted  under  the  door,  and  through  a  few  crannies  about  the 
roof.  Into  this  narrow  apartment  the  soldiers  were  now  marched ; 
a  bundle  of  straw  was  thrown  upon  the  floor  ;  sundry  flitches  of 
bacon,  that  hung  upon  the  walls,  were  removed  ;  and  a  few  com¬ 
forts,  in  the  way  of  food  and  drink,  were  supplied  to  render  the 
accommodation  as  tolerable  to  the  inmates  as  was  compatible  with 
their  safe  custody.  This  being  done,  our  friend  Andrew  was  posted 
in  the  passage-way  of  the  dwelling,  in  full  view  of  the  door  of  the 
store-house,  which  was  carefully  locked,  with  a  musket  in  his  hand, 
and  with  orders  to  make  a  circuit  every  five  minutes  round  the 
little  building,  to  guard  against  any  attempts  at  escape  by  under¬ 
mining  the  foundation. 

As  noon  approached  the  weather  began  to  clear  up,  and  with 
the  first  breaking  forth  of  the  sun  came  David  Ramsay,  the  pro¬ 
prietor  of  the  farm  which  was  the  scene  of  the  present  operations, 
llis  recognition  of  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  was  accompanied  by  a 
hearty  greeting,  and  with  an  expression  of  wonder  that  he  should 
have  ventured,  in  hostile  guise,  through  a  country  so  beset  as  this 
was  by  the  forces  of  the  enemy  ;  but  when  he  heard  the  narrative 
of  the  exploit  of  the  morning,  and  saw  the  trophies  of  its  success 
in  the  weapons  piled  against  the  wall,  and,  more  ’  especially,  when 
he  received  from  the  lips  of  his  wife  a  circumstantial  account  of 
the  part  which  had  been  performed  in  this  adventure  by  his  son 
Andrew,  lus  delight  seemed  almost  to  be  absorbed  by  his»astonish- 
ment  and  incredulity.  The  proofs,  however,  were  all  around  him  ; 

12* 


274 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


and  after  assuring  himself,  by  an  actual  inspection  of  the  prisoners 
through  one  of  the  chinks  of  the  store-house,  he  came  into  his  own 
parlour,  sat  down,  and  laughed  out-right. 

Eamsay  was  a  staunch  friend  of  the  independence  of  his  country ; 
and  although  he  had  not  been  up  in  arms  in  the  cause,  he  gave  it 
all  the  aid  he  could  by  the  free  expression  of  opinion,  and  by  a 
resolute  refusal  to  comply  with  the  requisitions  of  the  royalists. 
His  eldest  son  had  joined  Sumpter,  and  had  already  been  active 
in  the  field  ;  and  he  himself  looked,  with  an  almost  certain  expec¬ 
tation,  to  see  visited  upon  himself  that  proscription  under  which 
thousands  were  already  suffering,  and  which  he  had  only  escaped 
as  yet  by  the  temporizing  delays  of  his  opponents,  or  by  their  ne¬ 
glect,  arising  out  of  the  incessant  hurry  and  pressure  of  their  mili¬ 
tary  operations  in  the  organization  of  the  new  dominion  which  the 
royal  forces  had  but  lately  acquired.  He  was  a  man  of  sturdy 
frame — now  only  in  the  prime  of  life — brave,  thoughtful,  and  in¬ 
telligent,  and  firmly  resolved  to  stand  by  his  principles  through 
whatever  adverse  chances.  The  present  aspect  of  aflfairs  was,  to 
his  mind,  almost  decisive  of  his  fate  :  the  capture  of  these  prisoners, 
made  from  information  derived  from  his  own  family,  and  in  which 
his  own  son  had  been  a  principal  agent ;  their  confinement,  too,  in 
his  own  house,  were  facts  of  so  unequivocal  a  character  as  inevi¬ 
tably  to  draw  upon  him  the  prompt  ire  of  the  Tories,  and  compel 
him  to  assume  the  attitude  and  abide  by  the  issues  of  a  partisan. 
As  he  had  faith  in  the  justice  of  his  quarrel,  and  a  strong  devotion 
to  the  principles  upon  which  it  was  sustained,  he  did  not  hesitate 
in  the  crisis  before  him,  but  heroically  determined  to  meet  the 
worst  that  might  befal.  He,  therefore,  in  the  present  emergency, 
became  a  useful  and  efficient  ally  to  Robinson,  who  opened  to  him 
the  full  history  of  Butler,  and  the  coui’se  of  measures  he  was  about 
to  pursue  for  the  relief  of  that  unfortunate  officer. 

We  must  now  leave  the  sergeant  holding  watch  and  ward  over 
his  vanquished  foes,  and  shift  our  scene  to  Musgrove’s  Mill. 

The  family  of  Allen  Musgi’ove  were  in  a  state  of  great  disquiet¬ 
ude.  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  had  disappeared  before  day-light ;  and 
when  the  miller  and  his  nephew  left  their  beds,  a  little  after  the 
dawn,  the  only  intelligence  they  had  of  the  departure  of  their  guest 
was  inferred  from  finding  the  stable  door  open  and  the  sergeant’s 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


2*76 


horse  absent.  This  fact  was  explained  when  Mary  met  them  at 
breakfast.  Horse  Shoe  had  set  out  for  Ramsay’s  to  learn  some 
tidings  of  John,  and  to  enlist  him  in  an  effort  to  liberate  Butler. 
He  had  departed  under  cover  of  darkness  to  avoid  molestation 
from  Innis’s  scouts,  and  she,  Mary  Musgrove,  had  placed  the  key 
of  the  stable,  the  night  before,  in  a  place  where  Horse  Shoe  might 
find  it.  Such  was  the  extent  of  the  maiden’s  information.  The 
day  passed  wearily  upon  her  hand  :  she  was  anxious  to  hear  some¬ 
thing  of  Butler — something  of  Horse  Shoe — and  something,  we 
suppose,  of  John  Ramsay.  Frequently  durmg  the  morning  she 
and  Christojiher  Shaw  held  secret  conferences :  they  spoke  in 
whispers  :  suspense,  care,  and  doubt  were  pictured  upon  her  face  ; 
and  as  the  rain  pattered  against  the  windows  she  oftentimes'  stood 
before  them,  and  looked  out  upon  the  distant  road,  and  across  the 
wide  fields,  and  then  upwards  to  the  clouded  sky.  The  sun  at 
length  appeared,  and  his  rays  seemed  to  shoot  a  glimpse  of  joy 
into  the  breast  of  the  maiden,  as  she  walked  forth  to  note  the  diy- 
ing  of  the  roads,  and  to  see  the  clear  blue,  which,  in  that  climate, 
outvies  the  mellow  and  rich  tints  of  a  Tuscan  heaven. 

The  day  waxed,  and  the  birds  sang,  and  nature  was  gay,  but  the 
maiden  was  restless  and  unquiet :  the  day  waned,  and  the  sun  rode 
downwards  on  the  western  slope  in  gorgeous  beauty  ;  but  Mary 
was  ill  at  ease,  and  thought  little  of  the  gi’and  and  glorious  firma¬ 
ment.  Her  communings  with  Christopher  Shaw,  meantime,  be¬ 
came  more  eager  :  she  and  her  cousin  were  seen  to  wander  towards 
the  mill ;  then  Christopher  left  her,  and,  presently,  he  might  be 
discovered  leading  two  horses,  one  bearing  a  side-saddle,  down  to 
the  margin  of  the  stream.  Ihcre  was  a  short  visit  to  the  house  by 
the  young  man — a  word  whispered  in  the  ear  of  the  mother — a 
shake  of  her  head,  an  expression  of  doubt,  a  final  nod  of  assent, — 
and,  in  the  next  moment,  Mary  and  Christopher  were  seen  trotting 
off  on  horseback,  on  the  road  that  led  towards  Ramsay’s. 

When  they  had  ridden  some  two  or  three  miles,  and  had  entered 
upon  the  high-road  between  Ninety-Six  and  Blackstock’s — some¬ 
where  near  to  that  piece  of  haunted  ground,  where,  on  the  morning 
of  this  very  day,  a  goblin  had  struck  down  James  Curry  from  his 
steed — they  descried  a  military  party  of  horse  and  foot  slowly  ad¬ 
vancing  from  the  direction  to  which  they  were  travelling.  In  a 


276 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


few  moments  tliey  met  tlie  first  platoon  of  tlie  cavalry,  headed  by 
a  trumpeter  and  the  unsightly  captain  Hugh  Habershaw.  They 
were  detained  at  the  head  of  this  column,  whilst  some  questions 
were  ashed  respecting  the  object  of  then  journey,  the  troops  in  their 
neighboihood,  and  other  matters  connected  with  the  aflairs  of  the 
times.  Christopher's  answers  were  prompt  and  satisfactory :  he 
was  only  riding  with  his  kinswoman  on  a  visit  to  a  neighbor ; 
Innis’s  camp  was  not  above  two  miles  and  a  half  away,  and  the 
country  in  general  was  quiet,  as  far  as  he  had  the  means  of  know¬ 
ing.  The  travellers  were  now  suffered  to  pass  on.  In  succession, 
they  left  behind  them  each  platoon  of  threes,  and  then  encountered 
the  small  column  of  march  of  the  infantry.  Mary  grew  pale  as 
her  eyes  fell  upon  the  form  of  Arthm-  Butler,  posted  in  the  centre 
of  a  guard.  Her  feeling  lest  he  might  not  recognise  her  features, 
and  guess  something  of  her  errand,  almost  overpowered  her.  She 
reined  up  her  horse,  as  if  to  gi’atify  an  idle  curiosity  to  see  the 
soldiers  passing,  and  halted  in  a  position  which  compelled  the  ranks 
to  file  off,  in  order  to  obtain  a  free  passage  round  her.  Every  look 
seemed  to  be  turned  upon  her  as  the  escoi’t  marched  near  her 
horse’s  head,  and  it  was  impossible  to  make  the  slightest  sign  to 
Butler  without  being  observed.  She  saw  him,  however,  lift  his 
eyes  to  hers,  and  she  distinctly  perceived  the  flash  of  surprise  with 
which  it  was  kindled  as  he  became  aware  of  her  features.  A  faint 
and  transient  smile,  which  had  in  it  nothing  hut  pain,  was  the  only 
return  she  dared  to  make.  An  order  from  the  van  quickened  the 
march  ;  and  the  detachment  moved  rapidly  by.  As  Mary  still 
occupied  the  ground  on  which  she  had  halted,  and  was  gazing 
after  the  retreating  corps,  she  saw  Butler  turn  his  face  hack  towards 
her ;  she  seized  the  moment  to  nod  to  him.  and  to  make  a  quick  sign 
with  her  hand,  which  she  intended  should  Indicate  the  fact  that  she 
was  now  engaged  in  his  service.  She  thought  she  perceived  a 
response  in  a  slight  motion  of  Butler’s  head,  and  now  resumed  her 
journey,  greatly  excited  by  the  satisfaction  of  having,  in  this  acci¬ 
dental  rencounter,  obtained  even  this  brief  insight  into  the  condi¬ 
tion  of  the  prisoner. 

The  sun  was  set,  when  Mary  with  her  convoy,  Christopher 
Shaw,  arrived  at  Eamsay’s.  Always  an  acceptable  guest  at  this 
house,  she  was  now  more  than  ever  welcome.  There  was  business 


HORSK  SHOE  ROBINSON.  2^*1 

to  be  done  in  wbicb  she  could  discharge  a  most  important  part, 
and  the  service  of  Christopher  Shaw  in  reinforcing  the  garrison 
was  of  the  greatest  moment.  When  the  intelligence  regarding  the 
movement  of  Butler  to  Innis’s  camp  was  communicated  to  the 
sergeant,  it  suggested  a  new  device  to  his  mind,  which  he  deter¬ 
mined  instantly  to  adopt.  Butler  was  at  this  moment,  he  con¬ 
cluded,  in  the  hands  of  those  who  had  engaged  the  rufSans  to  set 
upon  him  at  Grindall’s  ford,  and  it  was  not  improbable  that  he 
would  be  summarily  dealt  with  :  there  was  no  time,  therefore,  to 
be  lost.  The  sergeant’s  plan,  in  this  new  juncture,  was,  to  compel 
the  young  ensign  to  address  a  letter  to  the  British  commandant,  to 
inform  that  officer  of  his  present  imprisonment,  and  to  add  to  this 
information  the  determination  of  his  captors  to  put  him  to  death, 
in  the  event  of  any  outrage  being  inflicted  upon  Butler.  This 
scheme  was  communicated  to  Ramsay,  Shaw,  and  Mary.  The 
letter  was  to  be  immediately  written ;  Mary  was  to  return  with  it 
to  the  mill,  and  was  to  contrive  to  have  it  secretly  dehvered,  in  the 
morning,  at  Innis’s  head-quarters ;  and  David  Ramsay  himself  was 
to  escort  the  maiden  back  to  her  father’s  house,  whilst  Shaw  was 
to  attend  the  sergeant  and  assist  him  to  transport  the  young  ensign 
to  some  fit  place  of  concealment.  The  private  soldiers  were  to 
remain  prisoners,  under  the  guard  of  Andrew,  until  his  father’s 
return,  when  they  were  to  be  released  on  parole,  as  prisoners 
of  war. 

The  plan  being  thus  matured,  Robinson  went  forthwith  to  the 
prison-house,  and  directed  Ensign  St.  Jermyn  to  follow  him  into 
the  dwelling.  When  the  young  officer  arrived  in  the  family 
parlor,  he  was  ordered  to  take  a  chair  near  a  table,  upon  which 
was  placed  a  light,  some  paper,  pen,  and  ink. 

“  Young  man,”  said  Robinson,  “  take  up  that  pen  and  write  as  I 
bid  you.” 

“  To  what  end  am  I  to  write  ?  I  must  know  the  purpose  you 
design  to  answer,  before  I  can  put  my  hand  to  paper.” 

“  To  the,  end,”  replied  Horse  Shoe  firmly,  and  with  unwonted 
gravity,  “  of  the  settlement  of  your  worldly  afl’airs,  if  the  consarns 
of  to-morrow  should  bring  ill  luck  to  a  friend  of  mine.” 

“  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir.  If  my  life  is  threatened  to 
accomplish  an  unrighteous  pui-pose,  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  at 


278 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


once,  that  that  life  belongs  to  my  king ;  and  if  his  interests  are  to 
suffer  by  any  forced  act  of  mine,  I  am  -willing  to  resign  it  at  once.” 

“  Never  was  pm-pose  more  righteous,  sir,  in  the  view  of  God  and 
man,  than  ours,”  said  David  Ramsay. 

“  I  have  a  friend,”  added  Horse  Shoe,  greatly  excited  as  he 
spoke,  “who  has  been  foully  dealt  by.  Some  of  your  enlisted 
gangs  have  laid  an  ambuscade  to  trap  him :  villany  has  been 
used,  by  them  that  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  see  it  thriving  under 
tlieu-  colors,  to  catch  a  gentleman  who  was  only  doing  the  common 
duties  of  a  good  sodger ;  and  by  mean  bush-fighting,  not  by  fair 
fields  and  honest  blows — they  have  seized  him  and  carried  him  to 
the  camp  of  that  blood-sucking  Tory,  Colonel  Innis.  I  doubt  more 
harm  is  meant  him  than  falls  to  the  share  of  a  common  prisoner 
of  war.” 

“  I  know  nothing  of  the  person,  nor  of  the  circumstances  you 
speak  about,”  said  the  ensign. 

“  So  much  the  better  for  you,”  replied  the  sergeant.  “  K  your 
people  are  brave  sodgers  or  honest  men,  you  will  not  have  much 
occasion  to  be  afeard  for  yourself ;  but,  by  my  right  hand !  if  so 
much  as  one  hair  of  Major  Arthur  Butler’s  head  be  hurt  by  Colo¬ 
nel  Innis,  or  by  any  other  man  among  yom-  pillaging  and  brand¬ 
ishing  bullies,  I  myself  -will  drive  a  bullet  through  from  one  of 
your  ears  to  the  other.  This  game  of  war  is  a  stiff  game,  young 
man,  but  we  will  play  it  out.” 

“  Major  Arthur  Butler !”  exclaimed  the  ofiBcer,  with  astonishment, 
“  is  he  taken  ?  ” 

“  Ha !  you’ve  hearn  of  him,  and  know  something,  mayhap,  of 
them  that  were  on  the  look-out  for  him  ?  ” 

“  I  cannot  write,”  said  the  officer  sidlenly. 

“No  words,  sir,”  interrupted  Horse  Shoe,  “but  obey  my  orders; 
write  what  I  teU  you,  or  take  your  choice.  I  will  bind  you  hand 
and  foot  to  a  tree  on  yonder  mountain,  to  starve  tilk,you  write 
that  letter;  or  to  feed  the  wild  vermin  with  your  body,  if  you 
refuse.” 

The  ensign  looked  in  Robinson’s  face,  where  a  frown  of  stem 
resolution  brooded  upon  his  brow,  and  a  kindling  tempest  of  anger 
showed  that  this  was  not  a  moment  to  hazard  the  trial  of  his  cle¬ 
mency. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


279 


“  What  would  you  have  the  jDurport  of  my  letter  ?”  asked  the 
oflScer,  in  a  subdued  voice. 

“  That  you  have  got  into  the  hands  of  the  Whigs,”  replied  the 
sergeant ;  “  and  that  if  so  be  any  mischief  should  fall  upon  Major 
Butler,  by  the  contrivings  of  your  friends,  you  die  the  first  minute 
that  we  hear  of  it.” 

“  I  have  had  no  hand  in  the  taking  of  Major  Butler,”  said  the 
young  St.  Jermyn. 

“  I  am  glad  of  it,”  answered  Robinson,  “  for  your  sake.  You  will 
die  with  a  better  conscience.  If  you  had  a  hand  in  it,  young  man, 
I  wouldn’t  ask  you  to  write  a  line  to  any  breathing  man :  your 
brains  would  spatter  that  door-post.  Take  up  the  pen  and  write,  or 
stand  by  the  consequences.” 

The  officer  took  up  the  pen,  then,  hesitating  a  moment,  flung  it 
down,  saying  ; 

“  I  will  not  Avrite  ;  do  with  me  as  you  choose.” 

“  The  young  man  drives  me  to  it,  against  my  own  nature,”  said 
Robinson,  speaking  under  strong  excitement.  “  If  he  will  not  pen 
that  letter,  then,  David  Ramsay,  you  will  write  to  Innis,  in  my 
name,  and  say  Galbraith  Robinson  "has  got  the  Ensign  where  no 
Tory  foot  will  ever  follow  him,  and  holds  him  to  answer  the  first 
mischief  that  is  done  to  Arthur  Butler.  But,  I  swear  to  this  sulky 
boy,  that  if  that  letter  goes  to  Innis  for  want  of  a  better,  as  I  am 
a  man  and  a  sodger,  he  will  never  taste  food  or  water  till  I  hear 
that  Major  Butler  is  free.  He  shall  starve  in  the  mountain.” 

“Oh,  God!  oh,  God!”  ejaculated  the  young  soldier,  in  bitter¬ 
ness  of  heart ;  and  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  he  threw  his 
head  upon  the  table,  where  he  wept  tears  of  agony.  At  length,  look¬ 
ing  in  the  countenance  of  Robmson,  he  said  ;  “lam  young,  sir — 
not  above  twenty  years.  I  have  a  mother  and  sisters  in  Eng¬ 
land.” 

“  We  have  no  time  to  spare,”  interrupted  Robinson,  “  much  less 
to  talk  about  kinsfolk.  Major  Butler  has  them  that  love  his  life 
better  than  e’er  an  Englishwoman  loves  hei-  son.  If  they  are 
brought  to  grief  by  this  onnatural  rascality,  it  matters  nothing  to 
me  if  every  daughter  and  sister  in  England  pines  away  of  heart¬ 
sickness,  for  the  loss  of  them  that  they  love  best.  Take  my 
adidce,  my  lack-beard,”  added  Robinson,  patting  him  on  the 


280 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


shoulder,  “  and  wiite  the  letter.  You  have  the  chances  of  war  in 
your  favor,  and  may  save  your  neck.” 

“  I  will  do  your  bidding,  sir,”  said  the  ensign,  after  a  pause. 
“  Under  the  compulsion  of  force,  I  agree  to  write,”  and  he  once 
more  took  up  the  pen. 

“  You  speak  now  hke  a  reasonable  gentleman,”  said  Horse  Shoe. 
“  I  pity  you,  friend,  and  will  preserve  you  against  harm,  so  far  as 
it  can  he  done  in  the  circumstances  of  the  case.” 

The  ensign  then  wrote  a  few  lines,  in  which  he  communicated 
to  Colonel  Innis,  or  to  whatever  ofBcer  his  letter  might  be  delivered, 
the  straits  in  which  he  found  himself,  and  the  resolution  of  his 
captors  to  hold  his  life  forfeit  upon  the  event  of  any  rigors,  beyond 
those  of  an  ordinary  prisoner  of  war,  imposed  upon  Major  Butler. 
When  he  had  finished,  he  gave  the  paper  to  Eobinson. 

“  Eead  it  aloud,  Mr.  Eamsay,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  delivering  the 
scrawl  to  his  friend. 

Eamsay  read  what  was  written. 

“  It  must  be  wrote  over  again,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  after  he  had 
heard  the  contents.  “  First,  it  must  make  no  mention  of  his  being 
only  a  few  miles  off ;  that  must  be  left  out.  Secondly,  my  name 
needn’t  be  told ;  though  if  the  runagates  knowed  he  was  in  my 
hands,  they  wouldn’t  think  his  chance  any  better  on  that  account. 
Let  him  say  that  the  Whigs  have  got  him — that’s  enough.  And, 
lastly,  he  must  write  his  own  name  in  full  at  the  bottom.  And, 
look  you,  young  man,  don’t  be  scrawling  out  the  lines  in  such  a 
way  that  your  own  hand-write  moughtn’t  be  known.  That  must 
speak  for  itself,  because  upon  this  letter  depends  your  life.  You 
unde^pl^nd  ?  ” 

“  GiTO  it  me,”  said  the  ensign  ;  “  I  will  write  it  as  you  desire.” 

And  again  the  unfortunate  officer  applied  himself  to  the  task 
that  was  imposed  upon  him ;  and  in  a  short  time  produced  a  letter, 
which,  being  subjected  to  the  criticism  of  the  bystanders,  was  pro¬ 
nounced  satisfactory. 

As  soon  as  this  was  done,  St.  Jerm3Ti  was  conducted  into  ano¬ 
ther  apartment,  and  there  confided  to  the  guardianship  of  Christo¬ 
pher  Shaw.  Horse  Shoe  now  took  a  light  and  the  writing  mate¬ 
rials  from  the  table,  and  repaired  with  David  Eamsay — ^both  of  them 
well  aimed — to  the  store-house,  where  the  other  prisoners  were 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


2S1 


confined.  After  they  had  entered  and  closed  the  door,  posting 
Andrew  with  his  musket  on  the  outside,  Horse  Shoe  addressed  the 
men  in  a  gay  and  cheerful  tone ; 

“  Come,  my  lads,  as  you  are  good,  honest  fellows,  that  can  have 
no  great  love  for  these  little  country  cabins,  judging  by  your  had 
luck  and  oncomfortable  circumstances  in  that  one  where  I  found 
you  this  morning,  I  have  come  to  set  you  free.  By  the  laws  of 
war,  you  have  the  right,  if  I  choose  to  take  it,  to  give  me  your 
parole.  So  now,  if  you  have  a  mind  to  promise  me,  on  the  honor 
of  sodgers,  not  to  sarve  again  until  you  are  fairly  exchanged,  you 
shall  all  leave  this  before  day-break.  What  do  you  say  to  the 
terms  ?  ” 

“We  are  all  agreed,”  replied  the  men,  with  one  accord. 

“  Then  write  out  something  to  that  effect,”  said  the  sergeant  to 
Ramsay.  “  You  that  can’t  scratch  like  scholards,  stick  your  mai-ks 
to  the  paper — d’ye  hear  ?  ” 

The  parole  was  written  out  by  Ramsay,  and  duly  signed  or 
marked  by  each  of  the  four  men.  This  being  done,  the  sergeant 
informed  them  that,  exactly  at  three  in  the  morning,  the  door 
would  be  opened,  and  they  would  be  at  liberty  to  go  Avhere  they 
pleased,  provided  they  pledged  themselves  to  visit  no  post  of  the 
enemy  within  twenty  miles,  nor  communicate  any  particulars  relat¬ 
ing  to  their  capture  or  detention  to  any  British  or  Tory  officer  or 
soldier,  within  seven  days.  This  pledge  was  cheerfully  given,  and 
after  a  few  words  of  jocular  good-nature  were  exchanged  on  both 
sides.  Horse  Shoe  and  his  companion  retired. 

David  Ramsay  now  ordered  out  his  own  and  Mary  Musgiwe’s 
hoi-ses,  with  an  intention  to  set  out  immediately  for  the  mill.  .. 

“  Does  Major  Butler  know  that  you  are  in  his  neighborhood  ?  ” 
inqired  Ramsay  of  the  sergeant,  before  the  horses  were  brought  to 
the  door. 

“  Oh,  bless  you,  yes,”  replied  Horse  Shoe.  “  I  left  word  for  him 
yesterday  at  Blackstock’s,  by  giving  the  babblers  there  something 
to  talk  about,  which  I  knew  he  would  hear.”  And  the  sergeant 
went  on  to  relate  the  particulars  of  his  stop  at  that  post :  “  And  I 
sent  him  a  message,”  continued  he,  “  this  morning,  by  James  Curry,  ’ 
in  the  same’sort  of  fashion.  A  little  before  dayhght,  I  heard  the 
devil  singing  one  of  his  staves  upon  the  road  back  here,  so  loud 


282 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON 


that  he  seemed  to  he  firightened  by  ghosts  or  sperits ;  so  I  rode  up 
fast  behind  him,  and  cuffed  him  out  of  his  saddle,  and  then  away 
I  went  like  a  leather-winged  bat.  I  knowed  the  curmudgeon’s 
voice,  and  I  expect  he  knowed  my  hand,  for  he  has  felt  it  before. 
I’ll  be  bound,  he  made  a  good  story  out  of  it ;  and,  as  such  things 
fly,  I  make  no  doubt  it  wasn’t  long  reaching  the  ear  of  the  major, 
who  would  naturally  think  it  was  me,  whether  James  told  my 
name  or  not,  because  he  knows  my  way.  It  was  as  good  as  writ¬ 
ing  a  letter  to  the  major,  to  signify  that  I  was  lurking  about,  close 
at  hand.  I  never  went  to  school,  Mr.  Ramsay,  so  I  write  my  letters 
by  making  my  mark.  I  can  make  a  blow  go  further  than  a  word 
upon  occasion,  and  that’s  an  old-fashioned  way  of  telling  your 
thoughts,  that  was  found  out  before  pen  and  ink.” 

“  Well,  Horse  Shoe,  you  are  a  man  after  your  own  sort,”  replied 
Ramsay,  laughing.  “  Come,  Mary,  take  the  letter ;  our  horses  are 
at  the  door.” 

“  Good  bye  t’ye,  David,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  shaking  Ramsay’s 
hand ;  “  it  may  be  some  days  before  we  see  each  other  again.  Kit 
and  me  will  be  off"  with  this  young  ensign  before  you  get  back. 
Don’t  forget  the  prisoners  at  three  o’clock.  And,  a  word,  D.avid — 
where  had  we  best  take  this  young  sparrow,  the  ensign,  to  keep 
him  out  of  the  way  of  these  fellows  that  are  scouring  the  country  ?  ” 

“  Leave  that  to  Christopher  Shaw,”  replied  Ramsay ;  “  he  knows 
every  nook  in  the  country.  So,  now,  friend  Robinson,  good  night, 
and  luck  go  with  you !  ” 

It  was  a  clear  star-lit  night,  and  every  tree  and  pool  sent  forth  a 
thousand  notes  from  the  busy  insects  and  reptiles  that  animate  the 
summer  hours  of  darkness,  when  David  Ramsay  set  out  with  Mary 
Musgrove  for  her  father’s  house. 


.  CHAPTER  XXIV. 


NEW  DIFFICULTIES  OPEN  UPON  BUTLER. 

With  the  last  notes  of  the  reveillee  everything  was  stirring  in 
Innis’s  camp.  It  was  a  beautiful,  fresh  morning;  a  cool  breeze 
swept  across  the  plain,  and  each  spray  and  every  blade  of  grass 
sparkled  with  the  dew ;  whilst  above,  an  imclouded  firmament 
gave  promise  of  a  rich  and  brilliant  mid-summer’s  day.  The 
surrounding  forest  was  alive  with  the  twittering  of  birds  ;  and  the 
neighing  of  horses  showed  that  this  portion  of  the  animal  creation 
partook  of  the  hilarity  of  the  season.  From  every  little  shed  or 
woodland  lair,  crept  forth  parties  of  soldiers,  who  betook  them¬ 
selves  to  their  several  posts  to  answer  at  the  roll-call ;  and  by  the 
time  the  sun  had  risen,  ofiBcers,  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  were 
seen  moving  hurriedly  across  the  open  plain,  to  join  the  groups  of 
infantry  and  cavalry,  which  were  now  forming  in  various  quarters 
for  the  purposes  of  the  morning  di-ill.  Companies  were  seen  in 
motion,  passing  through  the  rapid  evolutions  of  the  march,  the 
retreat,  and  the  many  exercises  of  service.  Drums  were  beating, 
and  fifes  were  piercing  the  air  with  their  high  notes,  and,  ever  and 
anon,  the  trumpet  brayed  fi-om  the  further  extremities  of  the  field. 
Picquet-guards  were  seen  mustering  on  the  edge  of  the  camp — 
wearied  and  night-worn  :  salutes  were  exchanged  by  the  small 
detachments  on  service ;  and,  here  and  there,  sentinels  might  be 
descried,  stationed  at  the  several  outlets  of  the  plain,  and  presenting 
their  arms  as  an  ofiBcer  passed  their  lines. 

The  troops  that  occupied  this  space  were  mostly  of  the  Irregular 
kind.  Some  were  distinguished  by  ill-fitted  and  homely  uniforms ; 
others  were  clad  in  the  common  dress  of  the  country,  distinguished 
as  soldiers  only  by  their  arms  and  accoutrements ;  but  amongst 
them  was  also  a  considerable  party  of  British  regulars,  clad  in  the 
national  livery  of  scarlet.  Amongst  the  ofiBcers,  who  were  in 


284 


II  0  E,sl:  S  H  0  E  ROBINSON. 


commaud  of  the  subordinate  departnaeuts  of  this  mixed  and  parti¬ 
colored -4ittle.  army,‘^-vyere  several  who,  from  their  costume,  might 
be  recognised  lis  belonging  to  the  regiments  that  had  come  from 
the -o^igj’ ..side  of  th-^?^lantic.  ' 

Os^nel  lujijs  'hinfeelf  was  seen  upon  the  parade,  dii'ecting  the 
move&ents  o^^fvisl^s  that,  under  their  proper  officers,  were 
practising  the  eustomaly  lessons  of  diseipline.  He  was  a  tall, 
thpr^  man,  of  an  emaciated  complexion,  with  a  countenance  of 
tlipfj^tf(il,''.^a5^^.  A  keen  black  eye  seemed  almost  to  burn 
.jjvithin  itfe^’i^i^aricrto  give  an  expression  of  petulant  and  peevish 
"  Excitability,  like  the  querulousness  of  a  sick 'man.  A  rather 
awkward  and  ungamly  person,  arrayed  in  a  scarlet  uniform  that 
did  but  little  credit  to  the  tailor-craft  employed  in  its  fabrication, 
conveyed  to  the  spectator  the  idea  of  a  man  unused  to  the  pride 
of  appearance  that  belongs  to  a  soldier  by  profession  ;  ^and  would 
'  have  suggested  the  conclusion,  which  the  fact  itself 'sustained,  that 
the  individual  before  him  had  but  recently  left  the  ^yb,lks  of  civil 
life  to  assum^^military  office.  His  demeanour,  lltew^^er,  showed 
him  to  baj^^^lous  if  not  a  skilful  officer.  He  gave  plose  atten¬ 
tion  to  _^^‘.duties  of  his  c( 
scrupuhjfe^exactitude  in  enfor 
rigorous  system  of  tactics. 

This  officer,  as  we  hay^e  bef 
ticipator  in  the  procee^gs  bf  ,the,.Mw  coi^^^  sequestrates  at 
Charleston ; ^fod  had  himself  e0.^nGlious  bydhe  fierce 

and  unsparing  industry  with  which  he  haddirou^^  to  the  judgment 
of  that  tribunal,  the  imputed  delinquencies  of  some  of  the  most 
opulent  and  patriotic  citizens  of  the  provnSbe. 

Amongst  the  cases  upon  whicffiJfes^d  b'^Sn  called  into  consul¬ 
tation  was  that  of  Arthur  Butlera^hose  possessions  being  ample, 
and  whose  position,  as  a  rebellrffi^  belligerent,  being  one  of 
“  flagrant  delict,”  there  was  b^t  •dftn^repugnance,  on  the  part  of 
the  judges  and  their  adviser,  tc?  subject  him  to  the  severest  law  of 
confiscation.  The  proceedings,  however,  had  been  delayed,  not 
from  any  tenderness  to  the  propri^or,  but,  as  it  was  whispered  in 
the  scandal  of  the  day,  on  account  of  certain  dissensions,  amongst 
a  few  prominent  servants  of  the  British  crown,  as  to  which  of  them 
the  privilege  of  a  cheap  purchase  should  be  extended.  The  matter 


immJtnd,  and  busied  .himself  with 
cmg  thp.  observances  necessary  to  a 


.V 


i?  hinted,  had  been  an  active  per- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


286 


was  stUl.  in  suspense,  with  a  view  (as  that  busybody,  common 
rumor,  allegfi^J  to  reward  a  particular  favorite  of  the  higher 
powers  with  tIJfe.neh  guerdon  of  these  good  lands,  in  compensation 
for  private  and  valuable  secret  services,  rendered  in  a  matter  of 
great  delicacy  and  hazard — no  less  a  service  than  that  of  seducing 
into  the  arena  of  politics  and  intrigue,  an  opulent  and  authoritative 
gentleman  of  Virginia,  Mr.  Bhilip  Lindsay. 

In  consequence  of  the  odious  nature  of  the  duty  which  Colonel 
Innis  had  assumed  to  perform,  he  became  peculiarly  hateful  to  the 
Whigs;  and  this  sentiment  was  in  no- degree  abated  when,  relin¬ 
quishing  his  occupation  as  a  counsellor  to  the  court  at  Charleston, 
he  accepted  a  commission  to  command  a  partisan  corjis  of  royalists 
in  the  upper  country.  lie  was,  at  the  juncture  in  which  I  have 
exhibited' him  to  my  reader,  new  in  his  command,  and  had  not  yet 
“  fleshedahis  maiden  sword  the  day,  however,  was  near  at  hand 
when  his  prowess  was  to  bo  put  to  the  proof. 

Such  was  the  person  into  whose  hands  Arthur  Butler  had  now 
fallen. 

After  the  morning  exercises  of  the  camp  were  finished,  and  the 
HMtr  wei'e  dismissed  to  prepare  their  first  repast,  the  principal 
officers  returned  to  the  colonel’s  head-quarters  in  the  farm-house, 
xvhere,  it  will  be  remembered,  Butler  had  been  delivered  by  the 
escort  that  had  conducted  him  from  Blackstock’s.  The  prisoner 
had  slept  soundly  during  the  whole  night ;  and  now,  as  the  break¬ 
fast  hour  drew  nigh,  he  had  scarcely  awaked  and  put  on  his 
clothes,  before  he  heard  an  inquiry,  made  by  some  one  below,  of 
the  orderly  on  duty,  whether  the  Whig  officer  was  yet  in  a  con¬ 
dition  to  be  visited ;  and,  in  the  next  moment,  the  noise  of  foot¬ 
steps,  ascending  the  stair  towards  his  chamber,  prepared  him  to  ex¬ 
pect  the  entrance  of  the  person  who  had  asked  the  question. 

A  British  officer,  in  full  uniform,  of  a  graceful  and  easy  carriage, 
neat  figure,  and  of  a  countenance  that  bespoke  an  intelligent  and 
cultivated  mind,  made  his  appearance  at  the  door.  lie  jjfas 
apparently  of  five  or  six  and  thirty  years  of  age ;  and  wdulstji  he 
paused  a  moment,  as  with  a  purpose  to  apologize  for  the  seeming 
intrusion,  Butler  was  struck  wdth  the  air  of  refined  breeding  of  the 
individual  before  him. 

“  Major  Butler,  I  understand,  of  the  Continental  army  ?”  said 


86 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


the  stranger.  “  The  unpleasant  nature  of  the  circumstances  in 
which  you  are  placed,  I  hope  will  excuse  the  trespass  I  have  com¬ 
mitted  upon  your  privacy.  Captain  St.  Jermyn,  of  his  Majesty’s 
army,  and  lately  an  aide-de-camp  of  Lord  Eawdon.” 

Butler  bowed  coldly,  as  he  replied : 

“  To  meet  a  gentleman,  as  your  rank  and  name  both  import,  is 
a  privilege  that  has  not  been  allowed  me  of  late.  Without 
knowing  wherefore,  I  have  been  waylaid  and  outraged  by  bravoes 
and  ruffians.  You,  perhaps,  sir,  may  be  able  to  afford  me  some 
insight  into  the  causes  of  this  maltreatment.” 

“  Even  if  it  were  proper  for  me  to  hold  discourse  with  you  on 
such  a  subject,  I  could  only  sj^eak  from  common  report,”  replied 
the  officer.  “  I  know  nothing  of  your  seizure,  except  that,  by  the 
common  chances  of  war,  you  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
ruling  authorities  of  the  province,  and  you  will,  doubtless,  as  a 
soldier,  appreciate  my  motives  for  declining  any  reference  to  the 
circumstances  in  which  you  have  been  found.  My  visit  is  stimu¬ 
lated  by  other  considerations,  amongst  which  is  foremost  a  desire 
to  mitigate  the  peculiarly  uncomfortable  captivity  to  which  I  am 
sorry  to  learn  you  have  been  subjected.” 

“  I  thank  you,”  replied  Butler,  “  for  the  intention  with  which 
your  good  offices  are  proffered ;  but  you  can  render  me  no  service 
that  I  should  value  so  much  as  that  of  informing  me  why  I  have 
been  brought  hither,  at  whose  suggestion,  and  for  what  pur¬ 
pose.” 

“  I  will  be  plain  with  you.  Major  Butler.  Your  situation  de¬ 
mands  sympathy,  however  inexorably  the  present  posture  of  our 
affairs  may  require  the  decrees  of  stern  justice,  in  respect  to 
yourself,  to  be  executed.  I  feel  for  you,  and  would  gladly  aid  you 
to  any  extent  which  my  duty  might  allow,  in  averting  the  possible 
calamity  that  may  hang  over  you.  You  are  known  as  a  gentleman 
of  consideration  and  influence  in  the  colonies.  I  may  further  add, 
as  a  brave  and  venturesome  soldier.  You  are  believed  to  have, 
more  boldly  than  wisely,  enterprised  the  accomplishment  of  certain 
schemes  against  the  safety  of  his  majesty’s  acknowledged  govern¬ 
ment  in  this  province ;  besides  having  committed  other  acts  in 
violation  of  a  faith  plighted  for  you  by  those  who  had  full 
authority  to  bind  you,  thus  bringing  yourself  within  the  penalties 


HOESE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


287 


appropriate  to  the  violation  of  a  military  parole,  if  not  withi^' 
those  of  treason  itself.” 

“  He  lies  in  his  throat,”  cried  Butler,  “  who  charges  me  with 
forfeiture  of  plighted  word  or  honor,  in  any  action  of  my  hfe. 
That  I  have  arrayed  myself  against  what  you  are  pleased  to  term 
his  majesty’s  acknowleciged  government  in  this  province,  I  am 
proud  to  confess,  here  in  the  midst  of  your  bands,  and  will  confess 
it  again  at  your  judgment  seat ;  but  if  aught  be  said  against  me 
that  shall  be  intended  to  attaint  my  honor  as  a  gentleman,  I  will,  in 
the  same  presence  and  before  God,  throw  the  lie  in  the  teeth  of 
my  accuser.  Aye,  and  make  good  my  word,  now  or  hereafter, 
wheresoever  it  may  be  allowed  me  to  meet  the  slanderer.” 

“  I  do  not  condemn  your  warmth,”  said  St.  Jermyn,  calmly,  “  in 
a  matter  that  so  deeply  stirs  your  self-esteem ;  and  only  desire 
now  to  second  it  in  all  things  wherein  an  honorable  enemy  may 
claim  the  support  of  those  who  themselves  value  a  good  name. 
The  authorities  of  this  post  have  considerately  resolved  to  give 
you  the  benefit  of  a  court  of  inquiry.  And  I  hope  you  will  take 
it  as  it  was  meant,  in  all  kindness  to  you,  that  I  have  come,  before 
the  communication  of  an  official  order,  to  apprise  you  that  charges 
will  be  duly  exhibited  against  you,  and  a  trial  be  instantly  had. 

If  you  will  accept  of  my  services,  feeble  and  inadequate  as  they 
may  be,  I  would  gladly  tender  them  to  afi’ord  you  such  facilities  as 
the  pressure  of  the  present  emergency  may  allow.” 

“  To  be  tried !  when,  and  for  what  ?  If  the  charge  is  that  I 
carry  on  open  war  against  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  calling 
me  and  my  compatriots  rebels — I  am  ready  to  confess  the  charge. 
What  need  of  court  or  trial  ?”  • 

“  There  are  graver  and  more  serious  offences  than  that  imputed 
to  you,”  said  St.  Jermyn. 

“  When  am  I  to  be  informed  of  them,  and  to  what  do  they 
tend  2” 

“  You  will  hear  them  this  morning;  when,  I  am  sorry  to  add, 
the  nature  of  our  military  operations  also  enforces  the  necessity  of 
your  trial.” 

“You  can  be  of  little  service,  if  that  be  true,”  returned  Butler, 
thoughtfully.  “  My  cause  can  only  be  defended  by  my  country, 
long  after  I  am  made  the  victim  of  this  unrighteous  procedure.” 


288 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  There  is  one  alternative,”  said  St.  Jermyn,  with  some  hesitation 
in  his  manner,  “  which  a  mature  deliberation  upon  your  relations 
as  a  subject, — pardon  me,  for  I  do  not  deem  this  ill-timed  rebellion 
to  have  obliterated  them — may  present  to  your  mind.” 

“  Spealr  it,”  said  Butler,  vehemently ;  “  speak  out  the  base 
thought  that  is  rising  to  your  lip,  if  you  •dare.  Prisoner  as  I  am, 
I  will  avenge  the  insult  on  the  spot  with  the  certainty  of  loss  of 
life.  The  alternative  you  suggest,  is  to  dishonor  me  and  all  who 
are  dear  to  me  by  the  foul  opprobrium  of  treason  to  my  country. 
You  would  have  me,  I  suppose,  renounce  the  cause  to  which  I  have 
dedicated  my  life,  and  take  shelter  with  the  recreants  that  have 
crowded  under  the  banner  of  St.  George  ?” 

“  Hold  !  remember,  sir,  that  you  are  a  prisoner,”  said  St.  Jermyn, 
with  great  coolness  ;  and  then  after  a  pause,  he  added  with  a  sigh  : 
“  I  will  not  wound,  by  fuffher  converse,  the  exaggerated  and  delu¬ 
sive  sense  of  honor  which  is  too  fatally  predominant  in  your  breast, 
and,  as  I  have  found  it,  in  the  breasts  of  many  of  your  misguided 
countrymen.  I  came  to  serve  you,  not  to  excite  your  feelings ;  and 
I  will  now,  even  in  your  displeasure,  serve  you  as  far  as  the  occa¬ 
sion  may  afford  me  means  :  I  pray  you,  call  on  me  without  reserve. 
For  the  present,  believe  me,  in  pain  and  sorrow  I  take  my  leave.” 

With  these  words,  the  officer  retired. 

Butler  paced  to  and  fro  through  his  narrow  chamber  for  some 
minutes,  as  his  mind  revolved  the  extraordinary  and  unexpected 
disclosures  which  had  been  made  to  him  in  this  short  visit.  A 
thousand  conjectures  rose  into  his  thoughts  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
supposed  chai'ges  that  were  to  be  brought  against  him.  He 
minutely  retraced  all  the  incidents  of  his  late  adventures,  to  ascer¬ 
tain  how  it  was  possible  to  found .  upon  them  an  accusation  of 
violated  faith,  or  to  pervert  them  into  an  imputation  of  treason 
against  the  present  doubtful  and  disputed  authority  of  the  self- 
styled  conquerors  of  Carolina.  If  his  attempt  to  join' Clarke  was 
treason,  it  could  be  no  less  treason  in  the  followers  of  Gates  to 
array  themselves  against  the  royal  army  ;  and,  that  every  prisoner 
hereafter  taken  in  battle  was  to  be  deemed  a  traitor  to  the  con¬ 
tested  power  of  Cornwallis,  seemed  to  be  a  pretension  too  absurd 
for  the  most  inveterate  partisans  to  assert.  There  was  nothing  in 
this  review  of  his  actions  that  the  most  ingenious  malice  could  per- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


289 


vert  into  an  offence  punishable  by  the  laws  of  wai',  by  other  rigor 
than  such  as  might  be  inflicted  upon  an  ordinary  prisoner  taken  in 
anns.  Still,  there  were  unhappy  doubts  of  some  secret  treachery 
that  rose  to  his  reflections :  the  perfidy  of  Adair,  manifestly  the 
effect  of  a  bribe  ;  the  ambuscade  promoted  and  managed  by  James 
Curry  ;  the  bloody  purpose  of  the  brutal  gang  who  captured  him, 
frustrated  only  by  the  accidental  fray  in  which  Blake  was  wounded. 
Then  the  “  doubtful  givings  out  ”  which  fell  from  the  lips  of  some 
of  the  soldiers  at  Blackstock’s,  of  his  case  still  being  one  of  life  and 
death ;  the  insinuation  of  the  savage  Habershaw,  at  the  same  place, 
conveyed  in  the  threat  of  twisted  hemp  ;  the  knowledge  which  his 
present  keepers  affected  to  have  of  his  rank  and  consequence,  of  his 
past  life  and  present  aims ;  and,  above  all,  his  being  brought  for 
immediate  trial,  in  a  matter  affecting  his  life,  before  the  very  man, 
now  in  the  capacity  of  a  military  commander,  who  had  heretofore 
been  active  in  promoting  the  design  of  confiscating  his  estate.  All 
these  considerations,  although  unconnected  with  any  circumstance 
of  specific  offence  within  his  knowledge,  led  him  into  the  most 
anxious  and  melancholy  forebodings  as  to  the  result  of  this  day’s 
proceedings. 

“  I  am  doomed  to  fall,”  he  said,  “  under  some  secret  stroke  of 
vengeance,  and  my  country  is  to  have  in  my  case  another  stirring 
appeal  against  the  enormity  of  that  iron,  rule  that  seeks  to  bow 
her  head  into  the  dust.  So  be  it !  The  issue  is  in  the  hand  of 
God,  and  my  fate  may  turn  to  the  account  of  the  establishment  of 
a  nation’s  liberty.  Oh,  Mildred,  I  tremble  to  think  of  thee  ! 
Heaven  grant,  my  girl,  that  thy  fortitude  may  triumph  over  the 
mptyrdom  of  him  that  loves  thee  better  than  Ws  life !” 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


A  TRIAL. - A  GRAVE  ACCUSATION  THAT  STILL  FURTHER  CONFIRMS 

RUTLER  IN  HIS  BELIEF  OF  A  SECRET  ENEMY. - A  SUDDEN  RESPITE. 

Butler’s  baggage,  ever  since  he  left  Robinson’s  habitation  on  the 
Catawba,  had  been  divided  into  two  parcels,  one  of  which  he 
carried  in  a  portmanteau  on  his  own  horse,  and  the  other  had  been 
stowed  away  in  a  pair  of  black  leather  saddle-bags  that  were  flung 
across  Captain  Peter.  Tliese  latter  sufficed,  also,  to  inclose,  in 
addition  to  the  sergeant’s  own  wardrobe,  sundry  stores  of  proven¬ 
der,  which  the  careful  apjietite  and  soldier-like  foresight  of  the 
trusty  squire  had,  from  time  to  time,  accumulated  for  their  comfort 
upon  the  road-side.  After  the  escape  of  the  sergeant,  this  baggage 
had  been  kept  with  more  scrupulousness  than  might  have  been 
expected  from  the  character  of  the  freebooters  into  whose  possession 
it  had  fallen ;  and  now,  when  Butler  had  been  surrendered  up  to 
the  custody  of  Colonel  Innis,  it  was  restored  to  the  prisoner  without 
the  loss  of  any  article  of  value.  On  this  morning,  therefore,  Butler 
had  thrown  aside  the  rustic  dress  in  which  he  had  heretofore 
travelled,  and  appearec^habited  as  we  have  described  him  when  first 
introduced  to  the  reader.  ■ 

After  a  very  slight  meal,  which  had  been  administered  with  more 
personal  attention  and  consideration  for  his  rank  and  condition  than 
he  was  prepared  to  expect,  an  officer  entered  his  apartment  and  com¬ 
municated  an  order  to  him  to  repair  to  the  yard  in  front  of  the 
quarters.  '  Here  he  found  a  sergeant’s  guard  mustered  to  receive 
him,  and  he  was  directed  to  march  with  them  to  the  place  that 
had  been  selected  for  his  trial.  The  spot  pitched  upon  for  this 
purpose,  was  at  the  foot  of  a  large  mulberry  that  stood  on  the  bor¬ 
der  of  the  plain,  at  a  short  distance  from  the  house. 

When  the  guard  arrived  with  the  prisoner.  Colonel  Innis  was 
already  seated  at  the  head  of  a  table,  around  which  were  placed 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


291 


several  officers,  of  the  regular  and  militia  forces.  Writing 
materials  were  also  arranged  upon  the  board,  and  at  the  lower  end, 
a  few  paces  removed  from  it,  stood  a  vacant  chair.  Behind  this 
was  erected  a  pile  of  drums,  with  one  or  two  colours  laid  trans¬ 
versely  across  them.  Sentinels  were  stationed  at  dififerent  points 
near  this  group,  and  within  their  lines  were  collected  the  principal 
officers  of  Innis’s  command.  Somewhat  more  remote,  a  number 
of  idle  spectators  were  assembled,  amongst  whom  might  have  been 
discerned  Habershaw,  Cuny,  and  many  of  the  heroes  who  had 
figured  at  Grindall’s  ford.  Captain  St.  Jermyn  had  taken  a  station 
a  little  to  the  left  of  the  presiding  officer  at  the  table,  and  in  the 
rear  of  those  who  appeared  to  have  the  management  of  the 
approaching  procedure,  and  now  stood,  with  his  hands  folded, 
apparently  an  anxious  and  interested  looker-on. 

There  was  a  thoughtful  and  even  stern  expression  upon  every 
face  when  Butler  appeared — and  a  silence  that  was  scarce  broken 
by  the  occasional  whispers  in  which  the  several  individuals  present 
communicated  with  each  other.  The  guard  marched  the  prisoner 
around  the  circle,  and  inducted  him  into  the  vacant  chair,  where 
he  was  received  by  a  quiet  and  cold  inclination  of  the  head  from 
each  member  of  the  court. 

For  a  few  moments  he  looked  around  him  with  a  scornful  gaze 
upon  the  assemblage  that  were  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  him,  and 
bit  his  lip,  as  his  frame  seemed  to  be  agitated  with  deep  emotion  : 
at  length,  when  every  look  was  bent  upon  him,  and  no  one 
breathed  a  word,  he  rose  upon  his  feet  ^nd  addressed  the  com¬ 
pany. 

“  I  understand  that  I  am  in  the  presence  of  a  military  court, 
which  has  been  summoned  for  the  purpose  of  inquiring  into  certain 
offences,  of  the  nature  of  which  I  have  not  yet  had  the  good  for¬ 
tune  to  bo  informed,  except  in  so  far  as  I  am  given  to  infer  that 
they  purport  of  treason.  I  ask  if  this  be  true.” 

The  presiding  officer  bowed  his  head  in  token  of  assent,  and  then 
presented  a  paper,  which  he  described  as  containing  the  specifica¬ 
tion  of  charges. 

“As  an  officer  of  the  American  army,  and  the  citizen  of  an  inde¬ 
pendent  republic,”  continued  Butler,  “  I  protest  against  any  account¬ 
ability  to  this  tribunal ;  and,  with  this  protest,  I  publish  my  wrongs 


292 


HOKSK  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


in  the  face  of  these  witnesses,  and  declare  them  to  arise  out  of  facts 
disgraceful  to  the  character  of  an  honorable  nation.  I  have  been 
drawn  by  treachery  into  an  ambuscade,  overpowered  by  numbers, 
insulted  and  abused  by  ruffians.  I  wish  I  could  say  that  these 
outrages  were  practised  at  the  mere  motion  of  the  coarse  banditti 
themselves  who  assailed  me ;  but  their  manifest  subserviency  to  a 
plan,  the  object  of  which  was  to  take  my  life,  leaves  me  no  room 
to  doubt  that  they  have  been  in  the  employ  and  have  acted  under 
the  orders  of  a  more  responsible  head” — 

“  Keep  your  temper,”  interrupted  Innis,  calmly.  “  Something  is 
to  be  allowed  to  the  excited  feelings  of  one  suddenly  arrested  in 
the  height  of  a  bold  adventure,  and  the  court  would,  therefore, 
treat  your  expression  of  such  feelings  at  this  moment  with  lenity. 
You  will,  however,  consult  your  own  welfare;  by  giving  your 
thoughts  to  the  charges  against  you,  and  sparing  yourself  the 
labor  of  this  useless  vituperation.  Read  that  paper,  and  speak  to 
its  contents.  We  will  hear  you  patiently  and  impartially.” 

“  Sir,  it  can  avail  me  nothing  to  read  it.  Let  it  allege  what  it 
may,  the  trial,  under  present  circumstances,  will  be  but  a  mockery. 
By  the  chances  of  war,  my  life  is  in  your  hands ;  it  is  an  idle 
ceremony  and  waste  of  time  to  call  in  aid  the  forms  of  justice,  to 
do  that  which  you  have  the  power  to  do,  without  insulting  Heaven 
by  affecting  to  assume  one  of  its  attributes.” 

“  That  we  pause  to  inquire,”  replied  Innis,  “  is  a  boon  of  mercy 
to  you.  The  offence  of  rank  rebellion  which  you  and  all  your  fel¬ 
low-madmen  have  confessed,  by  taking  up  arms  against  your  king, 
carries  with  it  the  last  degree  of  punishment.  If,  waiving  our 
right  to  inflict  summary  pain  for  this  transgression,  we  stay  to  hear 
what  you  can  say  against  other  and  even  weightier  charges,  you 
should  thank  us  for  our  clemency.  But  this  is  misspending  time. 
Read  the  paper  to  the  prisoner,”  he  added,  addressing  one  of  the 
officers  at  the  table. 

The  paper  was  read  aloud.  It  first  presented  a  charge  against 
the  prisoner  for  violating  the  terms  of  the  parole  given  at  the  capi¬ 
tulation  of  Charleston.  The  specification  to  support  this  charge 
was  that,  by  the  terms  of  the  surrender.  General  Lincoln  had 
engaged  that  the  whole  garrison  should  be  suiTendered  as  prison¬ 
ers  of  war,  and  that  they  should  not  seiwe  again  until  exchanged. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


293 


The  prisoner  was  described  as  an  ofBcer  of  that  garrison,  included 
in  the  surrender,  and  lately  taken  in  the  act  of  making  war  upon 
his  majesty’s  subjects. 

The  second  charge  was,  that  the  prisoner  had  insinuated  him¬ 
self,  by  false  representations,  into  the  territory  conquered  by  the 
royal  army ;  and  that,  in  the  quality  of  a  spy,  he  had  visited  the 
family  of  a  certain  Walter  Adair,  with  a  view  to  obtain  a  know¬ 
ledge  of  the  forces,  plans,  movements,  and  designs  of  the  various 
detachments  engaged  in  his  majesty’s  service  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Broad  River. 

And,  third  and  last,  that  he,  together  with  certain  confederates, 
had  contrived  and  partially  attempted  to  execute  a  plan  to  seize 
upon  and  carry  away  a  subject  of  his  majesty’s  government,  of 
great  consideration  and  esteem — Mr.  Philip  Lindsay,  namely,  of 
the  Dove  Cote,  in  the  province  of  Virginia.  That  the  object  of 
this  enterprise  was  to  possess  himself  of  the  papers  as  well  as 
of  the  person  of  the  said  Philip  Lindsay,  and,  by  surrendering 
him  up  to  the  leaders  of  the  rebel  army,  to  bring  upon  him  the 
vengeance  of  the  rebel  government,  thus  exposing  him  to  confisca¬ 
tion  of  property,  and  even  to  peril  of  life. 

Such  was  the  general  import  and  bearing  of  the  accusations 
against  the  prisoner,  expressed  with  the  usual  abundance  of  ver¬ 
biage  and  minuteness  of  detail.  Butler  listened  to  them,  at  fii’st, 
with  indifference,  and  with  a  determination  to  meet  them  with 
inflexible  silence ;  but,  as  the  enunciation  of  them  proceeded,  and 
the  extraordinary  misrepresentations  they  contained  were  succes¬ 
sively  disclosed,  he  found  his  indignation  rising  to  a  height  that 
almost  mastered  his  discretion,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  inter¬ 
rupting  the  court  with  the  lie  direct,  and  of  involving  himself  in 
an  act  of  contumacy  which  would  have  been  instantly  decisive  of 
his  fate.  His  better  genius,  however,  prevailed,  and,  smothering 
his  anger  by  a  strong  eflTort  of  self-control,  he  merely  folded  his 
arms  and  abided  until  the  end,  with  a  contemptuous  and  proud 
glance  at  his  accusers. 

“You  have  heard  the  allegations  against  you,  sir,”  said  Colonel 
Innis ;  “  what  say  you  to  them  ?  ” 

“  What  should  an  honorable  man,”  replied  Butler,  “  say  to  such 
foul  aspersions  ?  The  first  and  second  charges,  sir,  I  pronounce  to 


294 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


be  fi'ivolous  and  false.  As  to  tlie  last,  sir,  tliere  are  imputations  in 
it  that  mark  the  agency  of  a  concealed  enemy,  lost  to  every  im¬ 
pulse  of  honor — a  base  and  wicked  liar.  Confront  me  with  that 
man,  and  let  the  issue  stand  on  this — if  I  do  not  prove  him  to  be, 
in  the  judgm^it  of  every  true  gentleman  of  your  army,  an  atro¬ 
cious  and  depraved  slanderer,  who  has  contrived  against  my  life 
for  selfish  purposes,  I  will  submit  myself  to  whatever  penalty  the 
most  exasperated  of  my  enemies  may  invent.  It  was  my  purpose, 
sir,  to  remain  silent,  and  to  refuse,  by  any  act  of  mine,  to  acknow¬ 
ledge  the  violation  of  the  rights  .of  war  by  which  I  have  been 
dragged  hither.  Nothing  coidd  have  swayed  me  from  that  deter¬ 
mination,  but  the  iniquitous  falsehood  conveyed  in  the  last  accusa¬ 
tion.” 

“  We  cannot  bandy  words  with  one  in  your  condition,”  inter¬ 
rupted  the  president  of  the  court.  “I  must  remind  you  again, 
that  our  purpose  is  to  give  you  a  fair  trial,  not  to  listen  to  ebulli¬ 
tions  of  anger.  Your  honor  is  concerned  in  these  charges,  and  you 
will  best  consult  your  interest  by  a  patient  demeanor  in  your  pre¬ 
sent  difficulties.” 

“  I  am  silent,”  said  Butler,  indignantly,  taking  his  seat. 

“Let  the  trial  proceed,”  continued  the  president.  “You  will 
not  deny,”  he  said,  after  an  interval  of  reflection,  “  that  you  are  a 
native  of  Carolina  ?  ” 

“  I  can  scarcely  deny  that  before  you,”  replied  Butler,  “  who,  in 
my  absence,  as  report  says,  have  been  busy  in  the  investigation  of 
my  atfau’s.” 

“  There  are  bounds,  sir,  to  the  forbearance  of  a  court,”  said  Innis, 
sternly.  “  I  understand  the  taunt.  Your  estates  have  been  the 
subject  of  consideration  before  another  tribunal ;  and  if  my  advice 
were  listened  to,  the  process  relating  to  them  would  be  a  short  one.” 

“  You  are  answered,”  returned  Butler. 

“Nor  can  you  deny  that  you  were  an  officer  belonging  to  the 
army  under  the  command  of  General  Lincoln.” 

Butler  was  silent. 

“  You  were  at  Charleston  during  the  siege  ?  ”  inquired  one  of  the 
court. 

“  In  part,”  replied  Butler.  “  I  left  it  in  March,  the  bearer  of 
despatches  to  Congress.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


295 


“And  you  were  in  arms  on  the  night  of  the  thirteenth,  at  Grin- 
dall’s  Ford?”  continued  the  saiue^’questioner. 

“  I  confess  it,  sir.” 

“  That’s  enough,”  interrupted  Innis.  “  In  the  ninth  article  of 
the  capitulation  of  Charleston  we  read :  ‘  all  civil  oflScers,  and  the 
citizens  who  have  borne  arms  during  the  siege,  must  be  prison¬ 
er's  on  parole.’  ” 

“  I  should  say,”  interposed  St.  Jermyn,  who  now,  for  the  first 
time,  opened  his  lips,  “  that  the  prisoner  scarcely  falls  within  that 
description.  The  words  ‘  during  the  siege  ’  would  seem  to  point  to 
a  service  which  lasted  to  the  end.  They  are,  at  least,  equivocal ; 
and  I  doubt  Lord  Cornwallis  would  be  loath  to  sanction  a  judgment 
on  such  a  ground.” 

Upon  this  ensued  a  consultation  amongst  the  officers  at  the  table, 
during  which  Butler  was  withdrawn  to  a  short  distance  in  the  rear 
of  the  assemblage.  Several  of  the  unoccupied  soldiers  of  the 
camp,  at  this  stage  of  the  trial,  had  crowded  into  the  neighbor¬ 
hood  of  the  coui-t ;  and  the  sentinels,  yielding  to  the  eagerness  of 
the  common  curiosity,  had  relaxed  their  guard  so  far  as  to  allow 
the  spectators  to  encroach  beyond  the  lines.  Among  those  who 
had  thrust  themselves  almost  up  to  the  trial-table  were  a  few  chil¬ 
dren,  male  and  female,  bearing  on  their  arms  baskets  of  fruit  and 
vegetables,  which  had  been  brought  within  the  camp  for  sale.  A 
smart-looking  girl,  somewhat  older  than  the  rest,  seemed  to  have 
gained  more  favor  from  the  crowd  than  her  competitors,  by  the 
temptation  which  she  presented  of  a  rich  collection  of  mellow 
r  apples  ;  and  perhaps  her  popularity  was  in  some  degree  increased 
by  the  soft  and  pjeasant-toned  voice  in  which  she  recommended 
her  wares,  no  less  than  by  the  ruddy,  wholesome  hue  of  her  cheek, 
and  an  agreeable,  laughing,  blue  eye,  that  shone  forth  from  the  shade 
of  a  deep  and  narrow  sun-bonnet,  the  cm'tain  of  which  fell  upon 
her  shoulders  and  down  her  back. 

“  Buy  my  apples,  gentlemen,”  said  the  pretty  fruit-merchant, 
coming  up  fearlessly  to  Colonel  Innis,  in  the  midst  of  the  consulta¬ 
tion. 

“  Three  for  a  penny ;  they  are  very  ripe  and  mellow,  sir.” 

The  colonel  cast  his  eye  upon  the  treasures  of  the  basket,  and 
began  to  select  a  few  of  the  choicest  fruit.  Thus  encouraged,  the 


296 


HORSK  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


girl  set  her  load  upon  tlie  table,  in  the  midst  of  the  bats  and 
swords  with  which  it  was  encumbered,  and  very  soon  every  othei 
member  of  the  court  followed  the  example  of  the  presiding  officei; 
and  became  purchasers  of  the  greater  part  of  the  store  befor« 
them.  When  this  traffic  was  concluded,  the  little  huckster  took 
up  her  burden  and  retired  towards  the  group  of  spectators.  See 
ing  the  prisoner  in  this  quarter,  she  walked  up  to  him,  curtsied, 
and  presented  him  an  apple,  which  was  gi-atefully  accepted,  and  the 
proffered  return,  from  him,  in  money,  refused. 

When  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  elapsed,  Butler  was 
resummoned  to  his  seat,  and  the  court  again  proceeded  to  business. 
The  inquiry  now  related  to  the  second  charge — that,  namely, 
which  imputed  to  the  prisoner  the  character  of  a  spy  in  his  visit 
at  Adair’s.  To  this  accusation.  Captain  Hugh  Habershaw  and 
several  of  his  troop  were  called  as  witnesses.  The  amount  of  testi¬ 
mony  given  by  them  was,  that,  on  the  eleventh  of  the  month,  they 
had  received  information  that  a  Continental  officer,  whose  real 
name  and  title  was  Major  Butler,  but  who  was  travelling  in  dis¬ 
guise  and  under  an  assumed  name,  from  the  Catawba  towards  the 
Broad  River,  in  company  with  a  well  known,  stark  Whig — a  cer¬ 
tain  Horse  Shoe  Robinson — was  expected  in  a  few  days  to  arrive 
at  Wat  Adair’s.  That  Habershaw,  hoping  to  intercept  them,  had 
scoured  the  country  between  the  two  rivers ;  but  that  the  travellere 
had  eluded  the  search,  by  taking  a  very  circuitous  and  unfrequented 
route  towards  the  upper  part  of  Blair’s  Range  and  Fishing  Creek. 
That,  on  the  night  of  the  twelfth,  the  two  men  arrived  at  Adair’s, 
unmolested ;  and,  on  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth,  some  of  the 
woodman’s  family  had  met  Habershaw  and  apprised  him  of  this 
fact;  adding,  further,  that  the  prisoner  had  offered  a  bribe  to 
Adair,  to  induce  him  to  give  information  in  regard  to  the  loyalist 
troops  in  the  neighborhood,  with  a  vdew  to  communicate  it  to  a 
certain  Colonel  Clarke,  who  had  appointed  to  meet  Butler  and  his 
companion  somewhere  on  the  ujiper  border  of  the  province.  That, 
in  consequence  of  this  attempt,  Adair  had  directed  the  prisoner 
towards  Grinclall’s  Ford  ;  and,  this  intelligence  being  communicated 
to  the  witness,  he  had  conducted  his  troop  to  that  place,  where  he 
succeeded  in  arresting  the  prisoner  and  his  comrade,  with  the  loss 
of  two  men  in  the  struggle.  The  narrative  then  went  on  to  give 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


297 


the  particulars  of  Horse  Shoe’s  escape,  and  the  other  facts  with 
which  the  reader  is  acquainted.  This  account  was  corroborated  by- 
several  witnesses,  and,  amongst  the  rest,  by  Curry. 

Butler  heard  the  testimony  -with  the  most  painful  sensations. 
There  was.  just  enough  of  truth  in  it  to  make  the  tale  plausible, 
and  the  falsehood  related  to  points  which,  as  they  were  afSrmed 
upon  hearsay,  he  could  not  repel  by  proof.  There  was  a  common 
expression  of  opinion  amongst  the  bystanders — who  in  general 
were  inclined  to  take  the  side  of  the  prisoner  in  reference  to  the 
charge  which  was  supposed  to  affect  his  life — that  this  accusation 
of  Butler’s  acting  the  part  of  a  spy  Avas  sustained  by  the  proof. 
In  vain  did  he  protest  against  the  injustice  of  being  condemned  on 
Avhat  was  alleged  to  have  been  said  by  some  of  Adair’s  family ;  in 
vain  did  he  deny  that  he  had  offered  a  bribe  to  Adair  for  informa¬ 
tion  respecting  the  Tories  ;  and  equally  in  vain  did  he  affirm  that 
he  had  asked  of  Adair  nothing  more  than  the  common  hospitality 
due  to  a  traveller,  and  for  which  he  had  made  him  a  moderate 
requital — the  only  money  the  woodman  had  received  from  him. 
The  current  was  now  setting  violently  against  him,  and  it  seemed 
impossible  to  stem  it. 

“  It  is  but  due,”  said  Captain  St.  Jermyn,  a  second  time  inter¬ 
posing  in  behalf  of  the  prisoner,  “  to  the  rank  and  character  of 
Major  Butler,  since  a  portion  of  this  testimony  is  second-hand,  to 
take  his  own  examination  on  these  alleged  facts.  With  permission, 
therefore,  I  would  ask  him  a  few  questions.” 

“  The  court  will  not  object,”  said  Innis,  who  throughout  affected 
the  air  of  an  impartial  judge. 

“  It  is  true,  Major  Butler,  that  you  were  at  Adair’s  on  the  night 
of  the  twelfth  ?”  said  the  volunteer  advocate  of  the  prisoner. 

“  I  Avas,  sir.” 

“  And  you  made  no  concealment  of  your  name  or  rank  ?” 

“  I  Avill  not  say  that,”  replied  Butler. 

“You  Avere  under  a  feigned  name  then,  sir?”  inquired  Innis,  as 
St.  Jermyn  seemed  a  little  confounded  by  the  ansAver  he  had 
received. 

“  I  Avas  called  Mr.  Butler,  sir ;  my  rank  or  station  Avas  not  com¬ 
municated.” 

“  Your  dress  ?” 


13* 


298 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON.' 


“  Was  an  assumed  one,  to  avoid  inquiry.” 

“  This  man,  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,”  said  St.  Jermyn,  “  was 
known  to  Adair  as  a  whig  soldier  ?” 

“Well  known,”  replied  Butler  ;  “  and  I  was  also  represented  as 
belonging  to  that  party. '  Adair  himself  led  us  to  believe  that  he. 
was  friendly  to  our  cause.” 

Here  several  members  of  the  court  smiled. 

“  Had  you  met  any  parties  of  loyalists,”  inquired  Innis,  “  in  your 
journey  between  Catawba  and  Broad  ?” 

“We  had — more  than  one.” 

“  How  did  you  escape  them  ?” 

“  By  assuming  feigned  characters  and  names.” 

“  Your  purpose  was  to  join  Clarke  ?” 

“  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  answer  that  question,”  replied  the  pri¬ 
soner.  “  Suffice  it,  sh,  I  was  ti’avelling  through  this  region  on  a 
mission  of  duty.  My  purpose  was  to  act  against  the  enemy.  So 
far  the  charge  is  true,  and  only  to  this  extent.  I  came  with  no 
design  to  pry  into  the  condition  of  the  royal  troops  ;  I  sought  only 
a  successful  passage  through  a  contested,  though  sadly  overpowered 
country.” 

“  You  offered  no  money  to  Adair,”  said  St.  Jermyn  again,  as  if 
insisting  on  this  point  of  exculpation,  “  but  what  you  have  already 
called  a  moderate  requital  for  his  entertainment  ?” 

“  None,”  replied  the  piisoner — “  except,”  he  added,  “  a  guinea, 
to  induce  him  to  release,  from  some  wicked  torture,  a  wolf  he  had 
entrapped.” 

“  It  will  not  do,”  said  Colonel  Innis,  shaking  his  head  at  St. 
Jermyn ;  and  the  same  opinion  was  indicated  in  the  looks  of 
several  of  the  court. 

“  I  was  at  Walter  Adair’s  that  night,  and  saw  the  gentleman 
there,  and  heard  all  that  was  said  by  him  ;  and  I  am  sure  that  he 
offered  Watty  no  money,”  said  our  little  apple-girl,  who  had  been 
listening  with  breathless  anxiety  to  the  whole  of  this  examination, 
and  who  had  now  advanced  to  the  table  as  she  spoke  the  words. 
“  And  I  can  tell  more  about  it,  if  I  am  asked.” 

“  And  who  are  you,  my  pretty  maid  ?”  inquired  Colonel  Innis, 
as  he  lifted  the  bonnet  from  her  head  and  let  loose  a  volume  of 
flaxen  curls  down  upon  her  neck. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


299 


“  I  am  Mary  Musgrove,  the  miller’s  daughter,”  said  the  damsel, 
with  great  earnestness  of  manner,  “  and  Watty  Adair  is  my  uncle, 
by  my  mother’s  side — he  married  my  aunt  Peggy  ;  and  I  was  at 
his  house  when  Major  Butler  and  Mr.  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  came 
there.” 

“  And  what  in  the  devil  brought  you  here  ?”  said  Habershaw, 
gruffly. 

“  Silence !”  cried  Innis,  impatient  at  the  obtrusive  interruption 
of  the  gross  captain.  “  What  authority  have  you  to  ask  questions  ? 
Begone,  sir.” 

The  heavy  bulk  of  Hugh  Habershaw,  at  this  order,  sneaked  back 
into  the  crowd. 

“  I  came  only  to  sell  a  few  apples,”  said  Mary. 

“  Heaven  has  sent  that  girl  to  the  rescue  of  my  life,”  said  Butler, 
under  the  impulse  of  a  feeling  which  he  could  not  refrain  from 
giring  vent  to  in  words.  “  Pray  allow  me,  sir,  to  ask  her  some 
questions.” 

“  It  is  your  privilege,”  was  the  answer  from  two  or  three  of  the 
court ;  and  the  spectators  pressed  forward  to  hear  the  examina¬ 
tion. 

Butler  carefully  interrogated  the  maiden  as  to  all  the  particulars  \ 
of  his  visit,  and  she,  with  the  most  scrupulous  fidelity,  recounted 
the  scenes  to  which  she  had  been  a  witness.  When  she  came  to 
detail  the  conversation  which  she  had  overheard  between  Adair 
and  Lynch,  and  the  events  that  followed  it,  the  interest  of  the  by¬ 
standers  was  wound  up  to  the  highest  pitch.  There  was  a  simpli¬ 
city  in  her  recital  of  this  strange  and  eventful  story,  that  gave  it  a 
force  to  which  the  most  skilful  eloquence  might  in  vain  aspire ; 
and  when  she  concluded,  the  court  itself,  prejudiced  as  the  mem¬ 
bers  were  against  the  prisoner,  could  not  help  manifesting  an  emo¬ 
tion  of  satisfaction  at  the  clear  and  unequivocal  refutation  which 
tliis  plain  tale  inferred  against  the  testimony  of  Habershaw  and 
his  confederates.  Innis  alone  affected  to  treat  it  lightly,  and 
endeavored  in  some  degree  to  abate  its  edge,  by  suggesting  doubts 
as  to  the  capacity  of  a  young  girl,  in  circumstance  so  likely  to  con¬ 
fuse  her,  to  give  an  exact  narrative  of  such  a  complicated  train  of 
events,  fevery  cross-examination,  however,  which  was  directed  to 
the  accuracy  of  the  maiden’s  story,  only  resulted  in  producing  a 


300 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


stronger  conviction  of  its  entire  truth.  This  concluded  the  exami¬ 
nation  on  the  second  charge. 

The  court  now  proceeded  to  the  third  and  last  accusation  against 
the  prisoner. 

To  this  there  was  hut  one  witness  called — James  Curiy.  In  the 
course  of  the  examination  this  man  shoAved  great  address  and 
knowledge  of  the  world.  He  gave  some  short  account  of  himself. 
He  had  been  a  man  horn  to  a  better  condition  of  life  than  he  now 
enjoyed.  His  education  had  been  liberal,  and  his  associations  in 
life  extremely  various.  It  was  to  be  infenied  from  his  own  relation, 
that  he  had  fallen  into  some  early  indiscretion  which  had  thrown 
him  into  the  lowest  stations  of  society,  and  that  his  original  delin¬ 
quency  had  prevented  him  from  ever  rising  above  them.  He  had 
served  for  many  years  in  the  army,  and  was  present  at  the  surren¬ 
der  of  Charleston,  being  at  that  period  a  confidential  servant,  or 
man  of  business,  to  the  young  Earl  of  Caithness,  the  aide-de-camp 
of  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  Upon  the  departure  of  that  young  noble¬ 
man  with  the  rest  of  Sir  Henry’s  military  family,  for  New  York,  he 
had  remained  behind,  and  had  taken  a  similar  service  to  that  which 
he  had  left,  with  another  oflBcer  of  some  repute.  “  There  were 
state  reasons,”  he  said,  “  why  this  gentleman’s  name  could  not  now 
be  communicated  to  the  court.”  That,  in  the  month  of  July,  he 
had  attended  his  master  on  a  visit  to  Mr.  Philip  Lindsay,  in  Vir¬ 
ginia  ;  and  whilst  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  that  gentleman’s 
residence,  at  a  small  country  tavern,  he  had  accidentally  become 
priAy  to  the  design  of  the  prisoner,  and  the  same  Horse  Shoe  Ro¬ 
binson  who  had  been  mentioned  before,  to  seize  upon  the  person 
and  papers  of  Mr.  Lindsay  :  that  these  two  persons  had  actually 
arrived  at  the  tavern  he  spoke  of  to  commence  operations.  That 
he  had  overheard  them  discussing  the  Avhole  plan  ;  and  he  had  no 
doubt  they  had  allies  at  hand  to  assist  in  the  scheme,  and  would 
have  proceeded  that  same  night  to  put  it  in  execution,  if  he  had 
not  frustrated  their  design  at  the  risk  of  his  life.  That,  Avith  the 
view  of  interrupting  this  enterprise,  he  had  lured  Robinson,  the 
f  companion  of  the  prisoner,  to  Avalk  with  him  at  night  to  the  mar- 
I  gin  of  a  small  river  near  the  tavern,  where  he  accused  him  of  the 
^  treacherous  design  which  he  and  his  comrade  had  in  view  :  that, 
in  consequence  of  this,  Robinson  had  endeavored  to  take  his  life, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


301 


•which  was  only  saved  by  a  severe  struggle  ;  and  that,  being  thus 
discovered  in  their  purpose,  tlris  man,  Robinson,  and  the  prisoner 
had  made  a  hasty  retreat  towards  Gates’s  head-quarters. 

Such  was  in  effect  the  narrative  of  James  Curry,  which  was 
solemnly  given  upon  oath.  Butler  was  for  some  moments  con¬ 
founded  with  astonishment  at  the  audacity  of  this  falsehood.  He 
urged  to  the  court  the  improbability  of  the  whole  story.  “  It 
would  have  been  easy,”  he  said,  “if  I  had  been  hostile  to  Mr. 
Philip  Lindsay — which,  God  knows,  there  are  most  cogent  reasons 
to  disprove — it  would  have  been  easy  to  procure  his  arrest  without 
an  attempt  at  a  violent  seizure  by  me.  I  had  only  to  speak,  and 
the  whole  country  around  him  would  have  united  in  treating  him 
as  an  object  of  suspicion,  on  account  of  his  politics.”  He  admit¬ 
ted  that  he  was  at  Mrs.  Dimock’s  at  the  time  spoken  of — that  Ro¬ 
binson  attended  him  there ;  but  all  else  that  had  been  said  relating 
to  the  visit,  he  affirmed  to  be  utterly  false.  He  gave  the  particu¬ 
lars  of  the  meeting  between  Horse  Shoe  and  the  witness,  as  he 
liad  it  from  Robinson ;  and  spoke  also  of  his  knowledge  of  the 
visit  of  Tyrrel  at  the  Dove  Cote — “  which  person,”  he  said,  “  he 
had  reason  to  believe,  came  under  a  name  not  his  O'wn.” 

“  How  do  you  happen  to  be  so  familiar,”  inquired  Innis,  “  with 
the  afl’airs  of  Mr.  Lindsay  ?  ” 

“  That  question,”  replied  Butler,  “  as  it  refers  to  matters  entirely 
private  and  personal,  I  must  decline  to  answer.” 

Curry,  upon  a  second  examination,  re-aflSrmed  all  he  had  said 
before,  and  commented  with  a  great  deal  of  dexterity  upon  But¬ 
ler’s  statement,  particularly  in  reference  to  such  parts  of  it  as  the 
prisoner’s  repeated  refusal  to  answer  had  left  in  doubt.  After  a 
protracted  examination  upon  this  point,  the  trial  was  at  length 
closed,  and  Butler  was  ordered  back  to  his  apartment  in  the  farm¬ 
house. 

Here  he  remained  for  the  space  of  half  an  hoiu',  an  interval  that 
was  passed  by  him  in  the  most  distressing  doubt  and  anxiety.  The 
whole  proceeding  of  the  court  boded  ill  to  him.  The  haste  of  his 
trial,  the  extraordinary  nature  of  the  charges,  and  the  general  un¬ 
sympathizing  demeanor  of  the  court  itself,  only  spoke  to  his  mind 
as  evidences  of  a  concealed  hostility,  which  sought  to  find  a  plausi¬ 
ble  pretext  for  making  him  a  sacrifice  to  some  private  malevolence. 


302 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


He  was  therefore  prepared  to  expect  the  worst  when,  at  the  close 
of  the  half  hour,  St.  Jerinyn  entered  his  chamber. 

“  I  come,  sir,”  said  the  officer,  “  to  perform  a  melancholy  duty. 
The  court  have  just  concluded  their  deliberations.” 

“And  I  am  to  be  a  sacrifice  to  their  vengeance.  Well,  so  be  it ! 
There  was  little  need  of  deliberation  in  my  case,  and  they  have 
soon  despatched  it,”  said  Butler,  with  a  bitter  spirit,  as  he  paced 
up  and  down  his  narrow  chamber.  “  What  favor  have  these,  my 
impartial  judges,  vouchsafed  to  me  in  my  last  moment  ?  Shall  I 
die  as  a  common  felon,  on  a  gibbet,  or  am  I  to  meet  a  soldier’s 
doom  ?  ” 

“  That  has  been  thought  of,”  said  St.  Jermyn.  “  The  command¬ 
ing  officer  has  no  disposition  to  add  unnecessary  severity  to  your 
unhappy  fate.” 

“  Thank  God  for  that !  and  that  the  files  detailed  for  this  ser¬ 
vice  are  to  be  drawn  from  the  ranks  of  my  enemies  !  I  will  face 
them  as  proudly  as  I  have  ever  done  on  the  field  of  battle.  Leave 
me,  SH ;  I  have  matters  in  my  thought  that  require  I  should  be 
alone.” 

“  Your  time,  I  fear,  is  brief,”  said  St.  Jermyn.  “  The  guard  is 
already  at  hand  to  conduct  you  to  the  comd,  who  only  stay  to  pass 
sentence.  I  came  before  to  break  the  unhappy  news  to  you.” 

“  It  is  no  news  to  me,”  interrupted  Butler.  “  I  could  expect  no 
other  issue  to  the  wicked  designs  by  which  I  have  been  seized.  This 
solemn  show  of  a  trial  was  only  got  up  to  give  color  to  a  mm-der- 
ous  act  which  has  been  long  predetermined.” 

At  this  moment,  the  heavy  and  regular  tap  of  the  drum,  struck 
at  equal  intervals,  and  a  mournful  note  from  a  fife,  reached  the 
prisoner’s  ear. 

“  I  come  !  ”  exclaimed  Butler.  “  These  fellows  are  practising  their 
manual  for  an  occasion  in  which  they  appear  impatient  to  act. 
One  would  think.  Captain  St.  Jermyn,”  he  added,  with  a  smile  of 
scorn,  “  that  they  needed  but  little  practice  to  accomplish  them  for 
a  ceremony  which  has  of  late,  since  his  majesty  has  extended  his 
merciful  arm  over  this  province,  grown  to  be  a  familiar  piece  of 
military  punctilio.’” 

St.  Jermyn  hastily  fled  from  the  room,  and  rushing  out  upon  the 
grass-plot  where  the  guard  was  Qollected,  cried  out : 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


303 


“  Silence,  you  base  and  worthless  knaves  !  Is  it  thus  you  would 
insult  the  sufferings  of  an  unfortunate  enemy,  by  drumming,  under 
his  very  ear,  your  cursed  death-notes  ?  Strike  but  one  note  upon 
that  drum  again,  and  I  will  have  you  up  to  the  halberds.” 

“  The  music  did  but  try  a  flourish  of  the  dead  march,”  rephed 
the  sergeant  of  the  guard  ;  “  they  are  a  little  rusty,  and  seeing  that 
the  Whig  officer  ” — 

“Another  word,  sir,  and  you  shall  be  sent  to  the  provost-marshal. 
Attend  the  prisoner.” 

“  I  am  here,”  said  Butler,  who  had  overheard  this  conversation, 
and  had  already  descended  to  the  door. 

With  a  mournful  and  heavy  heart,  though  with  a  countenance 
that  concealed  his  emotions  under  an  air  of  proud  defiance,  he  took 
his  place  in  the  ranks,  and  marched  to  the  spot  where  the  court 
were  yet  assembled. 

“A  chair  for  the  prisoner,”  said  some  of  the  individuals  present, 
with  an  officious  alacrity  to  serve  him. 

“  I  would  rather  stand,”  replied  Butler.  “  It  is  my  pleasure  to 
hear  the  behests  of  my  enemies  in  the  attitude  a  soldier  would 
choose  to  meet  his  foe  in  the  field.” 

“  Mine  is  a  painful  duty.  Major  Butler,”  said  Innis,  rising,  as  he 
addressed  the  prisoner.  “  It  is  to  announce  to  you  that,  after  a 
full  and  most  impartial  trial,  in  which  you  have  had  the  advantage 
of  the  freest  examination  of  witnesses,  and  every  favor  accorded  to 
you  which  the  usages  and  customs  of  war  allow,  you  have  been 
found  guilty  of  two  of  the  charges  imputed  to  you  in  the  list  with 
which  you  were  furnished  this  morning.  Notwithstanding  the 
satisfactory  testimony  which  was  given  in  your  behalf  by  the  girl 
Mary  Musgrove,  in  relation  to  your  conduct  at  the  house  of  Adair, 
and  however  disposed  the  court  were  to  abandon  an  accusation 
which  thus  seemed  to  be  refuted,  it  has  occurred  to  them,  upon 
subsequent  reflection,  that,  by  your  own  confession — given,  sir, 
permit  me  to  say,  with  the  frankness  of  a  soldier — ^you  came  into 
this  district  in  disguise  and  under  false  names,  and  thus  enabled 
yourself  to  collect  information  relative  to  the  condition  of  the  royal 
forces,  which  it  was  doubtless  your  purpose  to  use  to  our  detriment. 
The  court,  for  a  moment,  might  have  led  you  to  entertain  hope 
that  they  were  satisfied  that  in  this  charge  you  had  been  wronged. 


304 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


The  simple,  affecting,  and,  no  doubt,  true  narrative  made  by  the 
miller’s  daughter  produced  a  momentary  sensation  that  was  too 
powerful  to  be  combated.  That  narrative,  however,  does  not 
relieve  you  from  the  effect  of  your  own  confessions,  since  both 
may  be  true,  and  the  charge  still  remain  unimpaired  against 
you. 

“  The  offence  of  breaking  your  parole  and  infringing  the  terms 
of  the  capitulation  of  Charleston,  is  open  to  a  legal  doubt,  and, 
therefore,  in  tenderness  to  you,  has  not  been  pressed ;  although 
the  court  think,  that  the  very  circumstance  of  its  doubtful  charac¬ 
ter  should  have  inculcated  upon  you  the  necessity  of  the  most 
scrupulous  avoidance  of  service  in  the  conquered  province. 

“  The  last  charge  against  you  is  fully  proved.  Not  a  word  of 
counter  evidence  has  been  offered.  Strictly  speaking,  by  the  usages 
of  war,  this  would  not  be  an  offence  for  the  notice  of  a  military 
tribunal.  The  perpetrators  of  it  would  be  liable  to  such  vindictive 
measures  as  the  policy  of  the  conqueror  might  choose  to  adopt. 
That  we  have  given  you,  therefore,  the  benefit  of  an  inquiry,  you 
must  regard  as  an  act  of  grace,  springing  out  of  our  sincere  desire 
to  do  you  ample  justice.  The  nature  of  the  offence  imputed  and 
proved  is  such  as,  at  this  moment,  every  consideration  of  expedi¬ 
ency  demands  should  be  visited  with  exemplary  punishment.  The 
friends  of  the  royal  cause,  wherever  they  may  reside,  shall  be  pro¬ 
tected  from  the  wrath  of  the  rebel  government ;  and  we  have, 
therefore,  no  scruple  in  saying,  that  the  attempt  upon  the 
person  of  Mr.  Philip  Lindsay  requires  a  signal  retribution.  But 
for  this  last  act,  the  court  might  have  been  induced  to  overlook 
all  your  other  trespasses.  Upon  this,  however,  there  is  no  hesita¬ 
tion. 

“  Such  being  the  state  of  the  facts  ascertained  by  this  tribunal, 
its  function  ceases  with  its  certificate  of  the  truth  of  what  has  been 
proved  before  it.  The  rest  remains  to  me.  Without  the  form  of 
an  investigation,  I  might,  as  the  commanding  officer  of  a  corps  on 
detached  service,  and  by  virtue  of  special  power  conferred  upon  me, 
have  made  up  a  private  judgment  in  the  case.  I  have  forborne  to  do 
that,  until,  by  the  sanction  of  a  verdict  of  my  comrades,  I  might 
assure  myself  that  I  acted  on  the  clearest  proofs.  These  have  been 
rendered. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


305 


“  My  order,  therefore,  is,  in  accordance  with  the  clear  decision  of 
the  court, — and,  speaking  to  a  soldier,  I  use  no  unnecessary  phrase 
of  condolence, — that  you  be  shot  to  death.  Time  presses  on  us  aad 
forbids  delay.  You  will  be  conducted  to  immediate  execution. 
Major  Frazer,”  he  said,  turning  to  one  of  his  officers,  “to  your 
discretion  I  commit  this  unpleasant  duty.”  Then,  in  a  tone  of 
private  direction,  he  added,  “  Let  it  be  done  without  delay  ;  pomp 
and  ceremony  are  out  of  place  in  such  a  matter.  I  wish  to  have 
it  despatched  at  once.” 

“  I  would  speak,”  said  Butler,  repressing  the  agitation  of  his 
feelings,  and  addressing  Innis  with  a  stern  solemnity,  “  not  to 
implore  your  mercy,  nor  to  deprecate  your  sentence :  even  if  I  could 
stoop  to  such  an  act  of  submission,  I  know  my  appeal  would  reach 
your  ears  like  the  idle  wind :  but  I  have  private  affairs  to 
speak  of.” 

“  They  were  better  untold,  sir,”  interrupted  Innis  with  an  affected 
air  of  indifference.  “I  can  listen  to  nothing  now.  We  have  other 
business  to  think  of.  These  last  requests  and  settlements  of  private 
affairs  are  always  troublesome,”  he  muttered  in  a  tone  just  audible 
to  the  officers  standing  near  him ;  “  they  conjure  up  useless  sympa¬ 
thies.” 

“  I  pray  you,  sir,”  interposed  St.  Jermjm. 

“  It  is  in  vain,  I  cannot  hear  it,”  exclaimed  the  commander,  evi¬ 
dently  struggling  to  shake  from  his  mind  an  uncomfortable  weight. 
“  These  are  woman’s  requests  !  God’s  mercy !  How  does  this 
differ  from  death  upon  the  field  of  battle  ?  a  soldier  is  always 
ready.  Ha  !  What  have  we  here  ?”  he  exclaimed,  as  a  trooper 
rode  up  to  the  group.  “  Where  are  you  from  ?  What  news  ?  ” 

“  A  vidette  from  Rocky  Mount,”  answered  the  horseman.  “  I  am 
sent  to  inform  you  that,  yesterday,  Sumpter  defeated  three  hundred 
of  our  people  on  the  Catawba,  and  has  made  all  that  were  alive, 
prisoners,  besides  capturing  fifty  or  sixty  wagons  of  stores  which 
the  detachment  had  under  convoy  for  Camden.” 

The  first  inquiries  that  followed  this  communication  related  to 
Sumpter’s  position,  and  especially  whether  he  was  advancing 
towards  this  camp. 

“  Ho  is  still  upon  Catawba,  tending  northwards,”  replied  the 
vidette. 


306 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“Tlien  we  are  free  from  danger,”  interrupted  Innis.  “I  am 
stripping  the  feathers  from  a  bird  to-day  that  is  worth  half  of  Sump¬ 
ter’s  prize,”  he  added,  with  a  revengeful  smile,  to  an  oflScer  who 
stood  by  him. 

During  this  interval,  in  which  the  commander  of  the  post  was  en¬ 
gaged  with  the  vidette,  the  guard  had  conducted  the  prisoner  back  to 
the  house,  and  Innis,  freed  from  the  restraint  of  Butler’s  presence, 
now  gave  way  to  the  expression  of  a  savage  exultation  at  the 
power  which  the  events  of  the  morning  had  given  him,  to  inflict 
punishment  upon  one  that  he  termed  an  audacious  rebel.  “  The 
chances  jump  well  with  us,”  he  said,  “when  they  enable  us  to 
season  the  joy  of  these  ragged  traitors,  by  so  notable  a  deed  as  the 
execution  of  one  of  their  shrewdest  emissaries.  This  fellow  Butler 
has  consideration  amongst  them,  and  fortune  too  :  at  least  he  had 
it,  but  that  has  gone  into  better  hands ;  and,  to  say  truth,  he  has  a 
bold  and  mischievous  spirit.  The  devil  has  instigated  him  to  cross 
our  path  ;  he  shall  have  the  devil’s  comfort  for  it.  The  whole  party 
taken  did  you  say  ?  ” — 

“  Every  man,  sir,”  replied  the  vidette. 

“  How  many  men  had  this  skulking  fellow,  Sumpter,  at  his  back  ?” 

“  They  say  about  seven  hundred.” 

“  And  did  the  cowards  strike  to  seven  hundred  rebels  ?” 

“  They  were  tangled  with  the  wagons,”  said  the  soldier,  “  and 
were  set  on  unawares,  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  at  the  lower  ferry.” 

“  Aye,  that’s  the  way !  An  ambuscade,  no  doubt, — a  piece  of 
cowardly  bush-fighting.  Fresh  men  against  j)oor  devils  worn 
down  by  long  marching  !  Well,  well,  I  have  a  good  requital  for 
the  rascally  trick.  Major  Butler’s  blood  -will  weigh  heavy  in  the 
scale,  or  I  am  mistaken  !  Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  to  quarters — we 
must  hold  a  council.” 

“  Here  is  a  letter,”  said  one  of  the  oflScers  of  the  court,  “  which 
I  have  this  moment  found  on  the  table,  under  my  sword  belt ;  it 
seems,  from  its  address,  to  contain  matter  of  moment.  How  it  came 
here  does  not  appear.” 

j  “  ‘  To  Colonel  Innis,  or  aqy  other  officer  commanding  a  corps  in 
1  his  majesty’s  service,”’  said  Innis,  reading  the  sujierscription ; 
j  “besides,  here  is  something  significant,  ‘/or  life  or  death,  with 
speed'  What  can  this  mean ?”  he  added,  as  he  broke  open  the 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


307 


paper  and  ran  Iiis  eyes  hastily  over  the  contents.  St.  George! 
here  is  something  strange,  gentlemen.  Listen  ! — 

“  ‘By  ill  luck  I  have  fallen  into  the  possession  of  the 'Whigs.  They  have 
received  intelligence  of  the  capture  of  Major  Butler,  and,  apprehending  that 
some  mischief  might  befal  him,  have  constrained  me  to  mform  you  that  my 
life  will  be  made  answerable  for  any  harsh  treatment  that  he  may  receive 
at  the  hands  of  our  friends.  They  are  resolute  men,  and  will  certainly 
make  me  the  victim  of  their  retaliation. 

Edgar  St.  Jermvn, 

Ensign  of  the  YlstReg’t. 

P.  S.  For  God’s  sake  respect  this  paper,  and  be  lenient  to  the  prisoner.’  ” 

“  Treason  and  forgery,  paltry  forgery  !”  exclaimed  Innis,  with  a 
smile  of  derision,  as  he  finished  reading  the  letter.  “  What  ho ! 
tell  Frazer  to  lead  out  the  prisoner,  and  despatch  him  without  a 
moment’s  delay.  So  much  for  this  shallow  artifice  !” 

“  A  base  forgery,”  said  one  of  the  officers  in  attendance,  “  and 
doubtless  the  work  of  the  rebel  major  himself.  He  will  die  with 
this  silly  lie  upon  his  conscience.  St.  Jermyn,  here  !”  cried  out 
the  same  officer  to  the  captain,  who  was  now  at  some  distance, 
“  here  is  an  attempt  to  put  a  trick  upon  us  by  a  counterfeit  of  your 
brother’s  hand,  telling  a  most  doleful  and  improbable  falsehood. 
Look  at  it.” 

St.  Jermyn  read  the  letter,  and  suddenly  turning  pale,  exclaimed  : 
“  Sir,  this  is  no  trick.  It  is  my  brother’s  own  writing.  He  is  in 
the  custody  of  the  Whigs !  How  came  this  here  ?  Who  brought 
it  ?  When  was  it  written  ?  Can  nobody  tell  me  ?” 

“  Tut,  St.  Jermyn  !”  interrupted  the  officer,  smiling,  “  you  surely 
cannot  be  imposed  upon  by  such  a  device.  Look  at  the  scrawl 
again.  In  truth,  are  you  sure  of  it,  man  ?”  he  inquhed  with  great 
surprise,  as  he  perceived  the  increasing  paleness  of  St.  Jermyn’s 
brow. 

“  My  brother’s  life  is  in  imminent  danger,”  replied  St.  Jermyn, 
with  intense  earnestness.  “  Colonel  Innis,  as  you  value  my  happi¬ 
ness,  I  entreat  you,  countermand  the  order  for  the  prisoner’s  execu- 
ti(  jQ.  I  implore  you,  respect  this  letter ;  it  is  genuine,  and  I  dread 
t'  }  consequences.  My  poor  brother,  the  youngest  of  my  family, 


308 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


and  the  special  darling  of  his  parents !  For  heaven’s  sake,  good 
colonel,  pause  until  we  learn  something  more  of  this  mysterious 
business.” 

“  For  your  sake,  my  friend,  and  until  we  can  investigate  this 
matter,”  said  Innis,  “  let  the  execution  be  suspended.” 

St.  Jermyn  instantly  hurried  to  the  guard,  to  communicate  the 
new  order. 

“  Whence  comes  this  missive  ?”  demanded  Innis.  “  It  has 
neither  date  nor  place  described.  Who  brought  it  ?  Did  any  one 
see  the  bearer  he  asked  aloud  of  the  bystanders. 

No  one  answered  except  the  officer  who  had  first  discovered 
the  paper.  “  I  know  nothing  more  than  what  you  see.  It  was 
here  upon  the  table.  How  long  it  had  been  there  I  cannot  tell.” 

“  It  is  strange,”  continued  Innis.  “  Can  this  young  St.  Jermyn 
have  fallen  in  with  Sumpter  ?  Or,  after  all,  is  it  not  an  ingenious 
forgery  which  has  deceived  our  friend  the  captain  ?  Still,  who 
could  have  brought  it  here  ?” 

The  letter  was  again  examined  by  every  individual  present. 

“  It  must  be  genuine,”  said  one  of  the  officers,  shaking  his  head. 
“  Captain  St.  Jermyn  was  very  much  in  earnest,  and  it  is  not  likely 
he  could  be  deceived.  It  has  been  mysteriously  deposited  here  by 
some  agent  of  the  Whigs.  The  person  should  be  found,  and  com¬ 
pelled  to  give  us  more  specific  information.  This  matter  must  be 
looked  to ;  the  ensign,  I  doubt  not,  is  in  perilous  circumstances.” 

“  Let  the  prisoner  be  strictly  guarded,  and  held  to  wait  our  future 
pleasure,”  said  Innis.  “  I  would  not  put  in  jeopardy  the  young 
ensign’s  life.  A  reward  of  twenty  guineas  shall  be  given  to  any 
one  who  brings  me  the  bearer  of  this  letter.  And  you.  Lieutenant 
Connelly,  take  thudy  troopers,  and  scoui-  the  country  round  to  gain 
intelligence  of  this  capture  of  Edgar  St.  Jermyn.  .Be  careful  to 
examine  every  man  you  meet,  as  to  the  presence  of  Whig  parties  in 
this  district.  Away  instantly,  and  do  not  return  without  tidings 
of  this  singular  event.” 

The  camp,  by  these  occurrences,  was  thrown  into  gi'eat  bustle. 
The  prisoner  was  securely  lodged  in  his  former  quarters,  and  placed 
under  a  double  guard ;  consultations  were  held  amongst  the 
officers  ;  and  Butler  himself  was  strictly  inteiTOgated  in  regard  to 
the  appearance  of  this  mysterious  letter,  of  the  contents  of  which 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


809 


he  was  yet  ignorant.  The  examination  threw  no  light  on  the 
affair ;  and,  very  soon  afterwards,  a  troop  of  horee  were  seen  sally¬ 
ing  beyond  the  limits  of  the  camp,  under  Lieutenant  Connelly,  to 
seek  information  of  the  fate  of  Ensign  St.  Jermyn. 


4 


i 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


THE  sergeant  and  HIS  COMRADE  PROJECT  AN  EXPEDITION  WHICH 
FURNISHES  THE  ENSIGN  AN  OPPORTUNITY  OF  ENJOYING  THE 
PICTURESQUE. 

As  soon  as  David  Ramsay  had  departed  with  the  maiden  for 
MusgTove’s  mill,  Robinson  ordered  his  own  and  Christopher  Shaw’s 
horse  to  be  saddled,  and  another  to  be  made  ready  for  St.  Jermyn. 
His  next  care  was  to  determine  upon  a  secure  place  of  retreat — 
reflecting  that  the  news  of  the  capture  of  the  ensign  must  soon 
reach  the  British  posts,  and  that  the  country  would  be  industriously 
explored  with  a  view  to  his  rescue.  A  spot  liijown  to  the 
woodsmen  of  this  region  by  the  name  of  the  Devil’s  Ladder, 
which  was  situated  in  the  defile  of  a  mountain  brook  that  emptied 
into  the  Ennoree,  occuned  to  Christopher  Shaw  as  the  most  secret 
fastness  within  their  reach.  This  spot  lay  some  twenty  miles 
westward  of  Ramsay’s,  accessible  by  roads  but  little  known,  and 
surrounded  by  a  district  which  grew  more  wild  and  rugged  the 
nearer  it  approached  the  defile. 

Here  it  was  supposed  the  party  might  arrive  by  daylight  the 
next  morning,  and  remain  for  a  few  days  at  small  risk  of  discovery; 
and  thither,  accordingly,  it  was  resolved  they  should  repair. 

This  being  settled.  Horse  Shoe  now  procured  a  supply  of  pro¬ 
visions  from  Mistress  Ramsay,  and  then  proceeded  to  arm  himself 
with  the  sword  and  pistols  of  the  ensign,  whilst  Christopher 
suspended  across  his  body  the  sword  of  Goliath,  as  the  sergeant 
called  the  brand  he  had  snatched  up  at  Blackstock’s,  and  also  took 
possession  of  one  of  the  captured  muskets. 

“  If  it  don’t  go  against  your  conscience.  Mistress  Ramsay,”  said 
Horse  Shoe,  when  the  preparations  for  the  journey  were  completed, 
“  I  would  take  it  as  a  favor,  in  case  any  interlopers  mought  happen 
to  pop  in  upon  you,  if  you  would  just  drop  a  hint  that  you  have 


311 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

hearn  that  Sumpter’s  people  had  been  seen  about  these  parts.  It 
would  have  an  amazing  good  hearing  on  the  Tories.  Besides 
making  them  wary  how  they  strayed  about  the  woods  it  would  he 
sure  to .  put  the  bloodhounds  on  a  wrong  scent,  if  they  should 
chance  to  be  sarching  for  the  young  ensign.  I  know  you  women 
are  a  little' ticklish  about  a  fib,  but  then  it’s  an  honest  trick  of  the  war 
sometimes.  And,  to  make  you  easy  about  it,  it  will  be  no  more 
than  the  truth  to  say  you  did  hear  it — for,  you  obsarve,  I  tell  you 
so  now.” 

“  But,”  replied  the  scrupulous  matron,  “  if  they  should  ask  me 
who  told  me,  what  should  I  answer  ?” 

“  Why,”  said  the  sergeant,  hesitating,  “just  out  with  it — tell  ’em 
you  heard  it  from  one  Horse  Shoe  Robinson ;  that’ll  not  make  th^- 
news  the  worse  in  point  of  credit.  And  be  sure,  good  woman, 
above  all  things,  to  remind  Da\dd,  when  he  gets  back  to  night, 
that  the  rank  and  file,  in  our  prison  yonder,  are  not  to  be  turned 
loose  before  three  o’clock  in  the  morning.” 

This  last  caution  was  repeated  to  Andy,  who  still  performed  the 
duty  of  a  sentinel  at  the  door  of  the  out-house.  All  things  being 
now  arranged  for  theh  departure.  Ensign  St.  Jermyn  was  brought 
from  the  chamber  where  he  had  been  confined,  and  was  invited  to 
join  the  sergeant  and  Christopher  at  supper  before  they  set  out. 
This  meal  was  ably  and  rapidly  discussed  by  the  stout  yeomen,  and 
scarcely  less  honored  by  the  prisoner,  whom  the  toils  and  privations 
of  the  day  had  brought  to  enjoyment  of  a  good  appetite. 

With  many  cheering  and  kind  expressions  of  encoin-agement 
from  the  sergeant,  the  young  officer  pre2>ared  to  comply  with  the 
demands  of  his  captors,  and  was  soon  in  readiness  to  attend  them. 
Robinson  lifted  him  into  his  saddle  with  a  grasp  as  light  as  if  he 
was  dealing  with  a  boy,  and  then  bound  him  by  a  surcingle  to  the 
horse’s  back,  whilst  he  offered  a  good-humored  apology  for  the 
rigor  of  this  treatment. 

“  It  is  not  the  most  comfortable  way  of  riding,  Mr.  Ensign,”  he 
said,  with  a  chuckle ;  “  but  fast  bind,  fast  find,  is  a’most  an 
excellent  good  rule  for  a  traveller  in  the  dark.  I  hope  you  don’t 
think  I  take  any  pleasure  in  oncommoding  you,  but  it  is  mv 
intention  to  lead  your  horse  by  the  rein  to-night,  and  this  friend  of 
mine  will  keep  in  the  rear.  So,  by  way  of  a  caution,  I  would  just 


312 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


signify  to  you  that  if  you  should  thinh  of  playing  a  prank  you 
will  certainly  bring  some  trouble  upon  your  head — as  one  or 
another  of  us  would  in  that  case  be  obliged  to  fire.  It  is  nothing 
more  than  military  punctilium  to  give  you  a  friendly  warning  of 
this.” 

“You  might  dispense  with  this  severity,  I  should  think,”  replied 
the  prisoner,  “  upon  my  pledge  of  honor  that  I  will  make  no  effort 
to  escape.” 

“  I  can  take  no  pledge  in  the  dark,”  returned  Horse  Shoe  ; 
“  daylight  mought  make  a  dift’erence.  If  we  should  happen  to  fall 
in  vdth  any  of  yom-  gangs  I’m  thinking  a  pledge  wouldn’t  come  to 
much  more  than  a  cobweb  when  I  should  ax  you  to  gallop  out  of 
the  way  of  your  own  people.  Flesh  is  weak,  as  the  preacher  says, 
and,  to  my  mind,  it’s  a  little  the  weaker  when  the  arm  is  strong  or 
the  foot  swift.  Temptation  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  backsliding. 
No,  no,  Mr.  Ensign,  you  may  get  away,  if  you  can ;  we’ll  take  care 
of  you  whilst  we’re  able — that’s  a  simple  understanding.” 

Without  further  speech  the  party  proceeded  on  their  journey. 
They  travelled  as  rapidly  as  was  consistent  with  the  ease  of 
the  prisoner  and  the  nature  of  the  ground  over  which  they  had 
to  move.  For  the  first  eight  or  ten  miles,  their  route  lay  across 
a  country  with  but  few  impediments,  except  such  as  arose 
from  the  unseasonable  hour  of  the  ride.  After  this  they  found  the 
toil  and  hazard  of  travel  continually  increasing.  They  had  been 
retreating  from  the  settled  country  towards  a  rough  wilderness, 
which  was  penetrated  only  by  an  obscure  road,  so  little  beaten  as 
tc^  be  scarcely  discernible  in  the  faint  starlight,  and  which  it 
required  all  Christopher’s  skill  in  Avoodcraft  to  follow.  Our 
travellers,  consequently,  often  lost  their  way,  and  were  obliged  to 
get  down  from  their  horses  and  gTope  about  to  ascertain  the  path. 
The  stars  had  shone  all  night  through  a  cloudless  firmament,  but 
the  deep  shade  of  the  forest  thickened  around  the  wanderers,  and 
it  was  frequently  with  difficulty,  even,  that  they  could  discern  each 
other’s  figures. 

They  reached  at  length  the  small  stream  upon  whose  banks, 
some  miles  above,  was  situated  the  place  to  which  their  steps  were 
directed ;  and  they  were  thus  rendered  more  sure  of  their  road,  as 
they  had  only  to  follow  the  ascending  course  of  the  brook.  The 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


WILLIAMS  TAKES  A  FANCY  TO  FOREST  LIFE. - HORSE  SHOE  AND 

JOHN  RAMSAY  CONTINUE  ACTIVE  IN  THE  SERVICE  OF  BUTLER. - 

MARY  MUSGROVE  BECOMES  A  VALUABLE  AUXILIARY. 

Williams  had  commenced  his  retreat  before  the  dawn,  as  much 
witli  a  view  to  accomplish  a  large  portion  of  his  journey  before 
the  heat  of  the  day,  as  to  protect  himself  against  the  probable 
pursuit  of  the  rallied  forces  of  the  enemy.  His  destination  was 
towards  the  mountains  on  the  north-western  frontier.  The  over¬ 
throw  of  Gates  had  left  a  large  force  of  Tory  militia  at  the  dis¬ 
posal  of  Cornwallis,  who,  it  was  conjectured,  would  use  them  to 
break  up  every  remnant  of  opposition  in  this  region.  It  was  there¬ 
fore  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  AVilliams,  to  conduct  his 
little  force  into  some  place  of  security  against  the  attacks  of  the 
royalists. 

Colonel  Elijah  Clarke  had,  ever  since  the  fall  of  Charleston,  been 
employed  in  keeping  together  the  few  scattered  Whig_^  families  in 
that  part  of  Carolina  lying  contiguous  to  the  Savannah,  with  a 
view  to  an  organized  plan  of  resistance  against  the  British  authori¬ 
ties  ;  and  he  had  so  far  accomplished  his  purpose  as  to  have  pro¬ 
cured  some  three  or  four  hundred  men,  who  had  agi-eed  to  hold 
themselves  in  readiness  to  strike  a  blow  whenever  the  occasion 
ottered.  These  men  were  to  be  mustered  at  any  moment  by  a  pre¬ 
concerted  signal ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  they  were  instructed,  by 
confining  themselves  to  their  dwellings,  or  pursuing  their  ordinary 
occupations,  to  keep  as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  way  of  the 
dominant  authorities. 

Clarke  resided  in  Georgia,  whence  he  had  fled  as  soon  as  the 
royalist  leader.  Brown,  had  taken  possession  of  Augusta  ;  and  we 
have  already  seen  that  a  letter  from  Colonel  Pinckney,  at  Charles¬ 
ton,  which  Home  Shoe  Robinson  had  been  intrusted  to  deliver, 

15 


388 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


had  summoned  Arthur  Butler  to  this  frontier  to  aid  in  Clarke’s 
enterprise. 

Colonel  Isaac  Shelby,  a  resident  of  Washington  county  in  Vir¬ 
ginia,  until  the  settlement  of  the  southern  line  of  the  State  had 
left  him  in  the  district  at  present  known  as  Sullivan  county  in 
Tennessee,  had  been  an  efficient  auxiliary  in  Clarke’s  scheme,  and 
was  now  ready  to  summon  a  respectable  number  of  followers  for 
the  support  of  the  war  on  the  mountain  border.  He  and  Clarke 
had  accidentally  arrived  at  Williams’s  camp  a  day  or  two  before 
the  attack  upon  Innis,  with  a  view  to  a  consultation  as  to  the  gene¬ 
ral  interests  of  the  meditated  campaign ;  and  they  had  only  tar¬ 
ried  to  take  a  part  in  the  engagement  from  a  natural  concern  for 
the  fate  of  their  intended  comrade,  Butler.  Having  no  further 
motive  for  remaining  with  Williams,  they  were  both  intent  upon 
returning  to  their  respective  duties,  and,  accordingly,  during  the 
retreat  of  the  following  day,  they  took  their  leave. 

The  vigilance  with  which  these  partisans  were  watched  by  their 
enemies,  almost  forbade  the  present  hope  of  successful  combina¬ 
tion.  From  a  co;isciousness  of  the  hazard  of  attempting  to  concen¬ 
trate  their  forces  at  this  juncture,  they  had  determined  still  to  pur¬ 
sue  their  separate  schemes  of  annoyance,  until  a  more  favorable 
moment  for  joint  action  should  arise ;  and,  in  the  interval,  to  hide 
themselves  as  much  as  possible  in  the  forest.  It  was  consequently 
in  the  hope  of  preserving  his  independence  at  least,  if  not  of  aid¬ 
ing  Clarke,  that  Williams  now  moved  with  so  much  despatch  to 
the  mountains. 

His  course  lay  towards  the  head  waters  of  the  Fair  Forest  river, 
in  the  present  region  of  Spartanburg.  This  district  was  inhabited 
only  by  a  few  hunters,  and  some  scattered  Indians  of  an  inoffensive 
character ;  it  abounded  in  game,  and  promised  to  afford  an  easy 
subsistence  to  men  whose  habits  were  simple,  and  who  were 
accustomed  to  rely  upon  the  chase  for  support.  The  second  day 
brought  our  hardy  soldiers  into  the  sojourn  they  sought.  It  was  a 
wilderness  broken  by  mountains,  and  intersected  by  streams  of 
surpassing  transparency ;  whilst  its  elevated  position  and .  southern 
latitude  conferred  upon  it  a  climate  that  was  then,  as  well  as  now, 
remarked  for  its  delicious  temperature  in  summer,  and  its  exemption 
from  the  rigors  of  winter. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


MARY  MUS  grove’s  PERPLEXITIES. 

As  a  mariner  who  watches  the  heavens  from  the  deck,  and  notes 
the  first  uprising  of  the  small  cloud,  “  no  bigger  than  a  man’s  hand,” 
that  to  his  practised  eye  shoivs  the  sign  of  tempest ;  and  anon, 
as  the  speck  quickly  changes  into  a  lurid  mass,  whence  volume 
after  volume  of  dun  vapor  is  driven  in  curled  billows  forward, 
covering  the  broad  welkin  with  a  gloomy  pall,  he  looks  more  fre¬ 
quently  and  more  intently  upwards,  anxious  to  lay  his  vessel  safe, 
and  assure  himself  of  his  proper  course-  to  steer :  so — not  with  the 
same  doubt  of  safety,  but  with  the  same  restless  inspection  of  the 
heavens — did  Mary  watch  the  slow  approach  of  night.  First,  she 
looked  wistfully  at  the  declining  ,'?un,  and  observed  with  pleasure 
the  night-hawk  begin  to  soar  :  then,  through  the  long  twilight,  she 
noted  the  thickening  darkness,  and  saw  the  bat  take  wing,  and 
heard  the  frog  croaking  from  Kis  pool.  And  as  the  stars,  one  by 
one,  broke  forth  upon  the  night,  it  gladdened  her  to  think  the  hour 
of  her  mission  was  approaching,  for  she  was  troubled  in  her  spirit 
and  anxious  to  acquit  herself  of  her  charitable  office ;  and  perhaps, 
too,  it  may  be  told  of  her,  without  prejudice  to  her  modest,  maidenly 
emotions,  a  spur  was  given  to  her  wishes  by  the  hope  of  meeting 
John  Ramsay. 

For  an  hour  after  supper  she  paced  the  porch,  and  still  looked 
out  upon  the  stars,  to  mark  the  slow  waxing  of  the  night ;  and, 
now  and  then  she  walked  forth  as  far  as  the  mill,  and  lingered  by 
the  bank  of  the  river,  and  again  returned  to  ask  the  sentinel  the 
hour. 

“  You  seem  disturbed,  Mary,”  said  Macdonald,  playfully.  “  Noiv, 
I’ll  venture  to  say  I  can  guess  your  thoughts :  this  star-gazing  is  a 
great  tell-tale.  You  were  just  now  thinking  that,  as  the  tug  of  the 
war  is  over,  some  lad  who  has  borne  a  musket  lately,  will  be  very 


360  HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

naturally  triijjiing  tliis  way  to-night,  instead  of  going  home  to  see 
his  mother.  Come — isn’t  that  a  good  guess  V' 

“Do  you  know  him,  sir?”  asked  Mary,  with  composure. 

“  Aye,  to  be  sure  I  do  :  a  good,  brave  fellow,  who  eats  well, 
drinks  well,  and  fights  well.” 

“  All  men  do  that  now,”  replied  the  maiden ;  “  but  I  am  sure 
you  are  wrong,  sir,  if  you  think  any  such  considers  it  worth  his 
while  to  come  here.” 

“  lie  must  come  quickly,  or  we  cannot  let  him  in  without  a 
countersign,”  said  the  oflScer  :  “  sergeant,  order  the  tattoo  to  beat, 
it  is  nine  o’clock.  Mary,  stay,  I  must  cross-question  you  a  Httle 
‘about  this  same  gallant.” 

“  Indeed,  sir,  I  did  but  jest,  and  so  I  thought  you  did.  My 
father  says  it  is  not  proper  I  should  loiter  to  talk  with  the  men ; 
good  night,  sir  :  it  is  our  time  for  prayers.”  And  with  these  words 
the  young  girl  withdrew  into  the  house. 

In  some  half  hour  afterwards  Mary  escaped  by  another  door 
and,  taking  a  circuitous  path  through  the  garden,  she  passed  behind 
the  sentinel  and  sped  towards  the  mill,  intent  upon  keeping  her 
appointment  with  the  friends  of  Butler.  As  soon  as  she  reached 
the  river  bank,  she  quickened  her  pace,  and  hurried  with  a  nimble 
step  towards  the  distant  thicket. 

“  What  ho  !  who  goes  there  ?”  shouted  the  voice  of  a  man  from 
the  neighborhood  of  the  mill :  “  who  flies  so  fast  ?” 

“  Faith,  Tom,  it  must  be  a  ghost,”  said  a  second  voice,  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  by  the  damsel,  who  now  increased  the  speed 
with  which  she  fled  towards  the  cover. 

In  an  instant  two  of  the  soldiers  of  the  guard  rushed  upon  the 
track  of  the  frightened  girl. 

“  Spare  me,  good  sir — for  pity’s  sake,  spare  me  !”  exclaimed  the 
maiden,  suddenly  turning  round  upon  her  pursuers. 

“  Where  away  so  fiist  ?”  said  one  of  the  men.  “  This  is  a  strange 
time  of  night  for  girls  to  be  flying  into  the  woods.  What  matter 
have  you  in  hand  that  brings  you  here — and  what  is  your  name  ?” 

“  I  am  the  daughter  of  Allen  Musgrove,”  replied  Mary  indig¬ 
nantly. 

“  Is  it  so  ?”  said  the  first  speaker ;  “  then  it  is  the  Miller’s  own 
daughter,  and  we  ask  your  pardon.  We  only  saw  you  flying  along 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


361 


the  bank  of  the  river,  and  not  knowing  what  it  was,  why  wa 
thought  it  right  to  follow.  But  as  it  is  all  explained  now,  we  will 
see  you  back  to  the  house.” 

“  I  can  find  my  way  without  help,”  replied  the  maiden. 

“Now,  that’s  not  good-natured  for  so  kind  a  girl  as  the  miller’s 
daughter  ought  to  be,”  said  the  second  soldier. 

“  I  will  see  if  my  father  can  protect  me,”  said  Mary,  hastening 
back  towards  the  house  so  rapidly  as  almost  to  run.  “  I  will  know 
if  Lieutenant  Macdonald  will  allow  me  to  be  insulted.” 

M'  ith  a  hurried  step  she  entered  upon  the  porch,  and,  without  stop¬ 
ping  to  parley  with  those  who  occupied  this  part  of  the  dwelling, 
retired  to  her  chamber  and  threw  herself  into  a  chair,  where  she  sat 
for  some  time  panting  with  affright.  As  she  gradually  recovered 
her  strength,  she  began  to  turn  her  thoughts  upon  her  recent  dis¬ 
comfiture  ;  and  it  was  with  a  deep  sense  of  chagrin  and  disappoint¬ 
ment,  that  she  reflected  upon  her  not  being  able  successfully  to 
renew  her  enterprise  on  the  same  night.  The  hour  of  meeting  had 
arrived ;  the  officers  of  the  guard  were  still  frequenting  the  porch  ; 
her  conduct  had  already  excited  notice,  and  if  she  wished  to  be  in 
a  condition  to  render  future  service,  her  most  obvious  duty  was  to 
postpone  any  further  attempt  to  deliver  the  papers  until  another 
time.  On  the  other  hand,  she  had  reason  to  fear  that  John  Ram¬ 
say  would  be  hovering  near  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  her  failure  to 
meet  him,  and  might  rashly  resort  to  the  same  mode  of  conveying 
a  signal  which  he  had  successfully  practised  heretofore.  This 
would  infallibly,  she  believed,  provoke  an  investigation  that  might 
entirely  frustrate  all  their  views.  “  But  then  John  is  a  good  soldier,” 
she  said,  in  the  way  of  self-consolation,  “  and  will  know  that  the 
enemy  is  awake ;  because  if  it  was  not  so,  he  would  be  sure  I 
would  keep  my  word.  And  if  he  only  takes  that  notion  into  his 
head,  he  is  too  careful  to  run  the  chance  of  spoiling  all  by  comino- 
here.” 

Still,  with  some  little  mistrust  as  to  John’s  soldiership  when  it 
crossed  the  path  of  his  love,  which  naturally,  she  reflected,  makes 
a  man  rash,  she  thouglit  it  best  to  provide  against  accident,  by 
throwing  hereelf  into  the  company  of  the  officers  who  loitered 
about  the  door  in  idle  discourse  with  her  father.  She  accordingly 
left  her  room,  and,  with  an  anxious  and  troubled  heart,  went  ont 

16 


862 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


and  seated  herself  quietly  on  the  steps  of  the  porch,  where  she 
remained  for  some  time  a  silent  hut  inattentive  listener  to  the  con¬ 
versation  of  those  around  her. 

As  a  part  of  that  system  of  things  by  which  it  is  contrived  that 
the  current  of  true  love  shall  never  run  smooth,  I  have  ever  found 
that  when  it  was  peculiarly  fitting  that  some  grandam,  uncle,  cousin, 
father,  or  guest,  should  retire  early  to  bed,  in  order  that  some 
scheme  of  interest  to  young  lovers  might  be  successfully  achieved ; 
precisely  on  such  nights  is  the  perversity  of  fate  most  conspicuous, 
in  inclining  the  minds  of  such  grandam,  uncle,  cousin,  and  so 
forth,  to  sit  up  much  longer  than  they  are  wont ;  thus  showing 
that  the  grooves  and  dovetails  of  things  in  this  world  are  not 
nicely  fitted  to  the  occasions  of  those  who  deal  in  the  tender  pas¬ 
sion.  And  so  it  befel  for  poor  Mary  Musgrove  this  night. 

The  hour  was  now  fast  verging  upon  eleven,  and  she  anxiously 
noted  every  sentence  that  was  spoken,  hoping  it  was  to  be  the 
last ;  and  then  she  trembled  to  think  that  John,  regardless  of  the 
danger,  might  be  lurking  near,  and  indiscreetly  expose  himself. 
And  still  the  talkers  discoursed  as  if  they  meant  to  sit  up  all  night. 
It  was  a  delicious,  cool  hour,  after  a  sultry  day,  and  there  was 
luxury  in  the  breeze ;  but  as  the  minutes  were  counted  over  by 
the  maiden,  in  their  slow  passage,  her  fears  increased.  At  length, 
far  off,  as  if  it  were  a  nule  away,  the  clear  notes  of  one  whistling 
an  old  tune  were  heard.  Mary  involuntarily  started  from  her 
seat,  and  moved  along  the  httle  pathway  towards  the  gate,  her 
heart  beating  against  her  bosom  as  if  it  would  have  “  overbourne 
its  continents.”  The  signal  notes  freshened  upon  the  air,  and  the 
tune  came  forth  bhthely  and  boldly,  showing  that  the  wayfarer 
was  trudging,  with  a  light  heart,  down  the  main  road  towards  the 
mill.  The  party  in  the  porch,  however,  were  too  much  engrossed 
in  then-  colloquy  to  notice  the  incident.  The  whistling  came  still 
nearer,  until,  at  last,  it  seemed  to  be  scarce  a  gunshot  from  the 
house.  Beyond  this  point  it  did  not  advance  ;  but  here  indicated 
that  the  person  from  whom  it  proceeded  had  halted.  If  Mary’s 
cheek  could  have  been  brought  to  the  light,  it  would  have  shown 
how  the  blood  had  deserted  it  from  very  fear :  her  whole  frame 
shook  with  this  emotion.  To  exhibit  her  unconcern,  which,  in  truth, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


363 


was  most  sadly  affected,  she  mingled  amongst  the  company  in  the 
porch,  and  leant  against  the  door-post.  Still  the  whistling  con¬ 
tinued,  with  no  symptom  of  retreat,  and  Mary  impatiently  walked 
towards  the  further  end  of  the  house.  “  John  Kamsay  makes  a 
fool  of  himself,”  she  muttered  peevishly.  “  Hasn’t  he  the  sense  to 
see  I  cannot  get  out?  What  keeps  the  simple  man  dallying 
shilly-shally  at  the  fence,  as  if  he  actually  wanted  them  to  take 
him  ?  I  don’t  believe  in  the  mighty  sense  and  wisdom  of  these 
men  !  If  John  had  half  an  eye  he  would  see  that  I  couldn’t  get 
away  to-night.” 

As  the  maiden  grew  fretful,  her  fears  had  less  mastery  over 
her  ;  and  now,  taking  heart  of  grace,  she  returned  to  the  porch. 

“  Sergeant,”  said  Macdonald,  calling  to  one  of  his  men,  “  take 
two  files  and  patrole  the  road  until  you  ascertain  who  that  fellow 
is  who  makes  himself  so  merry  to-night.  I  thought  it  some  fool,” 
he  continued,  addressing  himself  to  Allen  Musgrove,  “  who,  as 
the  poet  says,  ‘  whistled  as  he  went  for  want  of  thought,’  but  he 
seems  to  have  a  hankering  after  these  premises  that  is  not  exactly 
to  my  mind.  Perhaps,  after  all,  Mary,”  he  added  privately  in  the 
maiden’s  ear ;  “  it  is  the  lad  I  was  telling  you  of ;  and  as  he  is  a 
bashful  youth,  we  will  bring  him  in  by  force.  You  know,  he  can’t 
help  that ;  and  old  dad  here  can  never  blame  you  if  I  should 
make  the  fellow  come  to  see  you  against  your  will.  Sergeant,  treat 
the  man  civilly,  you  understand.” 

“  It  is  not  worth  your  while  to  be  sending  after  Adam  Gordon,” 
said  Mary,  with  some  slight  confusion  in  her  accent ;  “  he  is  only 
half-witted ;  and  almost  the  only  thing  he  does  for  a  living,  is  to 
come  down  of  nights  here  to  the  mill-dam,  to  bob  for  eels.  If  it 
wasn’t  for  that,  his  mother  would  go  many  a  day  without  a  meal.” 

“No  matter,  we  will  bring  Adam  in,”  replied  the  lieutenant, 
“  and  if  he  is  good  at  his  sport,  why  we  will  go  and  join  him.” 

“  He  is  shy  of  company,”  said  Mary,  still  faltering  in  her  speech, 
“  and  will  not  come  amongst  strangers.” 

Partly  from  a  spirit  of  resignation,  partly  to  avoid  further  ex¬ 
posure  of  her  feelings,  and  in  paib  too,  perhaps,  from  some  slight 
feeling  of  remorse,  such  as  is  natural  to  a  virtuous  and  youthful 
mind  at  being  obliged  to  practise  a  deceit  however  lawful  (as  I 


864 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


contend  it  was  in  this  case),  the  maiden  withdrew  into  the  parlor, 
where,  unseen  by  any,  she  oflered  up  a  short  and  earnest  prayer  for 
direction  and  forgiveness. 

Meantime  the  patrole  had  set  out,  and,  after  the  lapse  of  a  short 
time,  returned,  when  the  officer  reported  that  before  his  arrival,  the 
person  they  had  gone  in  quest  of  had  left  the  place,  and,  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night,  they  had  no  clue  to  follow  him.  This  was 
scarcely  announced  before  the  same  whistle  was  heard,  at  the 
same  remote  point  where  it  had  first  attracted  Mary’s  notice. 

“  It  is  as  our  young  mistress  has  said,”  muttei’ed  Macdonald, 
“  some  bumpkin,  too  shy  to  be  caught,  and  not  worth  the  catching. 
We  have  sat  it  out  to-night  long  enough,  friend  Musgrove,  so  let’s 
to  bed.” 

In  a  few  moments  the  party  betook  themselves  to  their  several 
places  of  rest. 

As  Mary  prepared  herself  for  her  couch,  the  anxious  events  of 
the  night  busied  her  thoughts,  and  the  image  of  John  Ramsay  was 
summoned  up  alternately  to  be  reproved  and  applauded.  “  If  he 
is  foolhardy,”  she  said,  as  she  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow,  “  no  one 
will  say  he  isn’t  wise  besides.  And  if  he  will  be  thrusting  his  head 
into  danger,  he  knows  right  well  how  to  get  it  out  again.  So  God 
bless  him,  for  a  proper  man  as  he  is  !”  And  thus,  in  a  better  tem¬ 
per  with  her  lover,  the  maiden  fell  asleep. ' 

In  order  to  avert  all  suspicion  of  disloyalty  from  the  miller’s  fa¬ 
mily,  Christopher  Shaw  had  offered  his  services  to  Macdonald,  to 
do  duty  as  one  of  the  detachment,  during  the  period  of  Butler’s 
detention  in  the  house.  The  offer  had  been  accepted,  and  Chi-is- 
topher  was  appointed  to  serve  in  the  character  of  a  quarter -master, 
or  purveyor  for  the  little  garrison, — a  post,  whose  duties  did  not 
materially  interfere  with  his  daily  occupation  at  the  mill. 

Mary  was  in  the  habit  of  communicating  to  Christopher  all  her 
secrets,  and  of  enlisting  his  aid  in  her  plans  whenever  it  was  neces¬ 
sary.  And  now,  soon  after  the  morning  broke,  the  maiden  arose 
and  went  to  the  mill,  where  she  communicated  to  Christopher  all 
the  perplexities  of  the  preceding  night. 

“  The  thing  must  be  managed  to-day,”  said  the  young  man,  after 
he  had  heard  the  whole  story.  “  I  have  provisions  to  collect  from 
the  neighborhood ;  and  what  is  to  hinder  you,  Mary,  from  riding 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


365 


out  with  me, — if  it  should  ouly  he  to  buy  some  eggs  ? — and  then, 
what  is  to  hinder  us  from  popping  in  upon  David  Eamsay,  and 
there  fixing  the  whole  matter  ?” 

“  Will  not  the  lieutenant  he  sending  some  of  his  own  men  with 
you  ?”  inquh-ed  the  maid. 

“  He  doesn’t  suspect  us,”  answered  Christopher,  as  cautiously  as 
if  the  walls  of  his  mill  had  ears.  “  At  any  rate  we  can  try  it,  you 
know,  and  if  the  thing  should  take  a  wrong  turn,  you  can  only  stay 
at  home ;  and  we  may,  at  the  worst,  make  another  venture  at  night.” 

“  I  have  the  letter  in  my  bosom,”  said  Mary,  “  and  will  be  ready 
immediately  after  breakfast.” 

When  the  appointed  time  arrived,  things  went  as  favorably  as 
Mary  could  have  wished.  Her  good  spirits  had  returned  ;  and  she 
plied  her  household  duties  with  a  happy  cheerfulness  in  her  looks 
that  completely  disarmed  all  suspicion.  She  received  the  banter 
of  Macdonald,  as  to  the  cause  of  her  restlessness  on  the  preceding 
night,  with  perfect  good  nature ;  and  when  Christopher  announced 
to  the  commanding  officer  his  purpose  of  going  out  upon  a  purvey¬ 
ing  ride,  and  invited  his  cousin  to  accompany  him,  she  accepted 
the  proposal  with  such  a  tone  of  laughing  pleasure,  as  put  it  on  the 
footing  of  a  pastime.- 

The  horses  were  brought  to  the  door,  and  the  maiden  and  her 
escort  rode  cheerily  forth.  They  were  not  long  in  accomplishing 
the  five  or  six  miles  that  brought  them  to  David  Ramsay’s  cabin.  I 
need  not  tell  the  afiectionate  concern  with  which  Mary  Musgrove  met 
her  lover,  John  Ramsay ;  nor  how  she  upbraided  him  as  a  silly 
fellow,  for  tramping  and  trudging  about  the  mill,  and  whistling  his 
signals,  when  he  ought  to  have  known,  by  her  not  coming  to  meet 
him,  that  there  was  good  reason  for  it.  Nor  is  it  important  to  de¬ 
tail  the  circumstances  of  Horse  Shoe’s  and  John’s  fruitless  expedi¬ 
tion,  and  their  disappointment  at  not  seeing  Mary ;  and  how 
shrewdly,  last  night,  Robinson  guessed  the  true  cause  of  it ;  and 
how  entirely  he  agreed  with  the  maiden,  beforehand,  in  thinking 
John  a  venturesome,  harebrained  fool,  to  put  himself  in  danger, 
when  he  might  have  been  certain  it  would  have  ended  as  it  did,  in 
a  run  from  “  the  rascally  red  coats,”  as  John  had  to  run.  to  get  out 
of  the  clutches  of  the  patrole.  My  story  requires  that  I  should 
pass  these  things  by,  and  go  to  the  business  in  hand. 


366 


HOUSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Horse  Slioe  and  Ramsay  had  grown  exceedingly  impatient,  both 
because  they  were  in  hourly  danger  of  being  surprised  by  casual 
parties  of  the  enemy,  and  because  the  time  for  useful  action  was 
fast  gliding  away.  They  had  used  every  precaution  to  keep  their 
visit  to  David  Ramsay’s  a  profound  secret  to  the  neighborhood ; 
and  had,  with  that  object,  lain  perdue  in  one  of  the  small  cabins, 
from  which  they  might  watch  the  approach  of  visitors,  and,  if  need 
required,  secure  an  immediate  retreat.  During  the  day,  they  sel¬ 
dom  left  their  concealment,  confining  all  their  out-door  operations 
to  the  night. 

A  consultation  was  held  in  David  Ramsay’s  cabin, — ^the  letters 
were  produced  and  delivered  to  Horse  Shoe,  and  the  instructions 
intended  for  him  by  Butler  were  carefully  read.  It  was  resolved 
that  Horse  Shoe  should  set  out  for  the  Dove  Cote  without  delay, 
taking  the  route  through  the  mountain  country  of  North  Carolina, 
as  that  least  likely  to  be  interrupted  by  the  British  troops.  John 
Ramsay,  for  the  present,  was  to  return  to  the  Fair  Forest  camp,  to 
inform  Williams  of  the  state  of  afiairs  ;  and  he  was  hereafter  to 
act  as  occasion  might  suggest.  Christopher  Shaw  and  Mary  were 
to  attend  upon  Butler,  and  communicate  whatever  might  transpire 
of  interest  to  David  Ramsay,  who  promised  to  find  means  of 
intercourse  with  Williams  or  Sumpter,  as  chcumstances  should 
allow. 

These  matters  being  arranged,  Mary  and  Christopher  Shaw  took 
their  leaves  of  Ramsay’s  family,  and  went  about  the  ostensible  ob¬ 
ject  of  their  expedition. 

Horse  Shoe’s  plan  of  travel  during  the  first  and  most  perilous 
stages  of  his  journey  towards  Virginia,  was  to  avail  himself  of  the 
darkness  of  the  night ;  and  he  accordingly  resolved  to  set  out  as 
soon  as  this  day  should  draw  to  a  close.  His  immediate  cares 
were,  therefore,  directed  to  making  all  the  necessary  preparations 
for  his  departure.  Captain  Peter  was  carefully  tended,  and  sup¬ 
plied  with  a  double  allowance  of  provender ;  provisions  were  stowed 
away,  both  for  himself  and  his  trusty  beast :  his  pistols  were  put 
in  order :  his  rifle  cleaned  out,  and  a  supply  of  ammunition  provided ; 
and,  finally,  the  letters  were  sewed  up  in  a  leather  pouch,  and 
buckled  around  his  body  by  a  strap,  inside  of  his  clothes.  It  was 
no  inconsiderable  item  in  the  sergeant’s  preparation  for  his  expedi- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


367 


tion,  to  sit  down  and  eat  a  meal,  which,  from  the  quantity  bestowed, 
and  the  vigor  with  which  the  assault  upon  it  was  made,  might 
have  betokened  a  full  week’s  starvation. 

The  day  waned,  and  the  night  came  a  welcome  visitor  to  the  ser¬ 
geant  ;  and,  at  that  hour  which  old  chroniclers  designate  as  “  inter 
canem  et  lupum,”  Captain  Peter  was  brought  to  the  door,  ready 
dight  for  travel.  Ramsay’s  family  stood  around,— and  whilst 
Andy,  with  boyish  afi’ection,  held  Horse  Shoe’s  rifle  in  his  hand, 
the  sergeant  feelingly  spoke  the  words  of  parting  to  his  friends ; — 
then,  with  a  jaunty  air  of  careless  mirth,  springing  into  his  saddle, 
and  receiving  his  trusty  weapon  from  the  young  comrade  of  his 
late  gallant  adventure,  he  rode  forth  with  as'stout  a  heart  as  ever 
went  with  knight  of  chivalry  to  the  field  of  romantic  renown. 


CHAPTER  XXXni. 


A  GLANCE  AT  THE  DOVE  COTE. - THE  COMPANIONSHIP  OF  BROTHER 

AND  SISTER, 

Our  story  once  more  brings  us  back  to  tbe  Dove  Cote.  During 
tbe  first  week  tbat  followed  her  interview  with  Arthur  Butler  under 
the  Fawn’s  Tower,  Mildred  was  calm  and  thoughtful,  and  even 
melancholy:  her  usual  custom  of  exercise  was  foregone,  and  her 
time  was  passed  chiefly  in  her  chamber.  By  degi-ees,  however,  her 
firm  and  resolute  temper  predominated  over  the  sadness  of  her 
fortunes,  and  she  began  to  resume  that  cheerfulness  which  circum¬ 
stances  can  never  long  subdue  in  a  strong  and  disciplined  mind. 
She  had  grown  more  than  ever  watchful  of  the  public  events,  and 
sought,  with  an  intense  avidity,  to  obtain  information  in  regard  to 
the  state  of  things  in  the  south.  She  now  felt  herself  closely 
allied  to  the  cause  in  which  Arthur  Butler  had  embarked,  and? 
therefore,  caught  up  the  floating  rumors  of  the  day,  in  what 
regarded  the  progress  of  the  American  arms  in  the  southern  expe¬ 
dition,  with  the  interest  of  one  who  had  a  large  stake  depending 
on  the  issue. 

She  had  received  several  letters  from  Butler,  which  detailed  the 
progress  of  his  journey  from  the  Dove  Cote  to  Gates’s  camp,  and  fi-om 
thence  to  Horse  Shoe’s  cottage.  They  were  all  written  in  the  con¬ 
fident  and  even  jocular  tone  of  a  light-hearted  soldier  who  sought 
to  amuse  his  mistress  ;  and  they  narrated  such  matters  of  personal 
history  as  were  of  a  character  to  still  her  fears  for  his  safety.  Their 
effect  upon  Mildred  was  to  warm  up  her  enthusiasm,  as  well  as  to 
brighten  her  anticipations  of  the  future,  and  thus  to  increase  the  re¬ 
turning  elasticity  of  her  spirits.  Up  to  this  period,  therefore,  she  grew 
every  day  more  buoyant  and  playful  in  her  temper,  and  brought 
herself  to  entertain  a  more  sanguine  reckoning  of  the  eventual  deter¬ 
mination  of  affairs.  She  was  now  frequently  on  horseback,  attend- 

368 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


369 


ed  by  her  brother,  with  whom  she  scarcely  ever  failed  to  make  a 
visit  to  the  good  Mistress  Dimock,  where  she  either  found  a  letter 
from  Butler,  or  heard  some  of  the  thousand  tidings  which  report 
was  for  ever  busy  in  propagating  or  exaggerating  in  regard  to  the 
movements  of  the  army. 

“  I’ll  warrant  you,  Arthur  is  a  man  for  the  pen  as  well  as  for  the 
spur  and  broadsword,  my  pretty  lady,”  was  one  of  the  landlady’s 
comments,  as  she  handed  to  Mildred  the  eighth  or  ninth  epistle  that 
had  fallen  into  her  hands  since  Butler’s  departure ;  “  there  scarcely 
comes  trotting  by  a  soiled  traveller  with  his  head  set  northwards, 
but  it  is — ‘  Good  woman,  is  this  Mistress  Dimock’s  ?’  and  when  I  say, 
‘  aye,’  then  ‘  here’s  a  letter,  madam,‘for  you,  that  comes  from  the  army;’ 
and  so,  there’s  Arthur’s  own  hand-writing  to  a  great  pacquet,  ‘  for 
Mistress  Dimock  of  the  Rockfish  inn,  of  Amherst,’  and  not  even, 
after  all,  one  poor  line  for  me,  but  just  a  cover,  and  the  inside  for 
Miss  Mildred  Lindsay  of  the  Dove  Cote.  Ha,  ha !  we  old  bodies 
are  only  stalking-horses  in  this  world.  But  God  bless  him  ! — he  is 
a  fine  and  noble  gentleman.”  And  Mildred  would  take  the  pacquet 
and  impatiently  break  the  seal ;  and  as  she  perused  the  close- 
written  contents  the  color  waxed  and  waned  upon  her  cheek,  and 
her  eye  would  one  instant  sparkle  with  mirth,  and  in  the  next  gi-ow 
dim  with  a  tear.  And  when  she  had  finished  reading,  she  would 
secretly  press  the  paper  to  her  lips,  and  then  bestow  it  away  in  her 
bosom,  evincing  the  earnest  fondness  of  a  devoted  and  enthusiastic 
nature. 

Mildred  and  Henry  were  inseparable;  and,  in  proportion  as  his 
sister’s  zeal  and  attachment  to  the  cause  of  independence  became 
more  active,  did  Henry’s  inclination  to  become  a  partisan  gvow 
apace.  Hers  was  a  character  to  kindle  the  s})irit  of  bi'ave  adven¬ 
ture.  There  was  in  it  a  quiet  and  unostentatious  but  unvarying 
current  of  resolution,  that  shrank  before  no  perils.  Her  feelings, 
acute  and  earnest,  had  given  all  their  warmth  to  her  principles  ;  and 
what  she  once  believed  her  duty  commanded,  was  pursued  with 
the  devout  self-dedication  of  a  religious  obligation.  To  this  temper, 
which,  by  some  secret  of  its  constitution,  has  a  spell  to  sway  the 
minds  of  mankind,  there  was  added  the  grace  of  an  exquisitely 
feminine  address.  The  union  of  these  two  attributes  rendered  Mildred 
Lindsay  an  object  of  conspicuous  interest  in  such  a' time  as  that  of 

16-^ 


370 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


the  revolutionary  struggle.  Her  youth,  her  ready  genius,  her 
knowledge  and  her  habits  of  reflection,  much  in  advance  of  her 
years,  enhanced  the  impression  her  character  was  adapted  to  pro¬ 
duce,  and  brought  upon  her,  even  in  her  secluded  position,  a  con¬ 
siderable  share  of  public  observation.  It  was  not  wonderful  that  a 
mind  so  organized  and  accomplished  should  have  acquh-ed  an 
unlimited  dominion  over  the  frank,  open-hearted,  and  brave  temper 
of  her  brother,  now  just  stepping  beyond  the  confines  of  mere  boy¬ 
hood.  Her  influence  over  Henry  was  paramount  and  unbounded  : 
her  afi’ections  were  his,  her  faith  was  his,  her  enthusiasm  stole 
into  and  spread  over  his  whole  temper. 

With  these  means  of  influence  she  had  sedulously  applied  her¬ 
self  to  infuse  into  Henry’s  mind  her  own  sentiment  in  regard  to 
the  war ;  and  this  pui-pose  had  led  her  to  interest  herself  in  sub¬ 
jects  and  pursuits,  which,  in  general,  are  very  foreign  from  her  sex. 
Her  desfre  to  enlist  his  feelings  in  aid  of  Butler,  and  her  convic¬ 
tion  that  a  time  was  at  hand  when  Henry  might  be  useful,  gave 
rise  to  an  eager  solicitude  to  see  him  well  prepared  for  the 
emergencies  of  the  day,  by  that  necessary  mode  of  educa¬ 
tion  which,  during  the  period  of  the  revolution,  was  common 
amongst  the  young  gentlemen  of  the  country.  He  was  a  most 
willing  and  ready  pupil ;  and  she  delighted  to  encourage  him  in 
his  inclination  for  military  studies,  however  fanciful  some  of  his 
conceptions  in  regard  to  them  might  be.  She,  therefore,  saw, 
with  great  satisfaction,  the  assiduous  though  boyish  devotion 
with  which  he  set  himself  to  gain  a  knowledge  of  matters  relat¬ 
ing  to  the  duties  of  a  soldier.  However  little  this  may  fall  within 
the  scope  of  female  perception  in  ordinary  times,  it  will  not  appear 
so  much  removed  from  the  capabilities  or  even  the  habits  of  the 
sex,  when  we  reflect  that  in  the  convulsions  of  this  great  national 
struggle,  when  every  resource  of  the  country  was  drained  for  ser¬ 
vice,  the  events  of  the  day  were  contemplated  with  no  less  inter¬ 
est  by  the  women  than  by  the  men.  The  fervor  with  which  the 
American  women  participated  in  the  cares  and  sacrifices  of  ‘the 
revolutionary  war,  has  challenged  the  frequent  notice  and  warmest 
praises  of  its  chroniclers.  Mildred  but  reflected,  in  this  instance, 
the  hues  of  the  society  around  the  Dove  Cote,  which  consisted  of 
many  families,  scattered  along  the  country  side,  composed  of  per- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


371 


sons  of  elevated  cliaracter,  easy  circumstances,  and  of  the  staunchest 
Whig  politics,  with  whom  she  held  an  uninterrupted  and  familiar 
intercourse. 

Another  consideration  may  serve  to  explain  the  somewhat  mas¬ 
culine  character  of  Mildred’s  pursuits.  Her  most  intimate  com¬ 
panion,  at  all  times,  and  frequently  for  weeks  together  her  only 
one,  was  her  brother.  These  two  had  grown  up  together  in  all  the 
confidence  of  childhood ;  and  this  confidence  continued  still  una¬ 
bated.  Their  pursuits,  sports,  exercises,  thoughts,  and  habits 
were  alike,  with  less  of  the  discrimination  usual  between  the  sexes, 
than  is  to  be  found  between  individuals  in  larger  associations. 
They  approximated  each  other  in  temper  and  disposition;  and 
Henry  might,  in  this  regard,  be  said  to  be,  without  disparagement 
to  his  manly  qualities,  a  girlish  boy ;  and  Mildred,  on  the  other 
hand,  with  as  little  derogation,  to  be  a  boyish  girl.  This  home¬ 
bred  freedom  of  nurture  produced,  in  its  development,  some  gro¬ 
tesque  results,  which  my  reader  has,  doubtless,  heretofore  observed 
with  a  smile ;  and  it  will,  dikewise,  serve  to  explain  some  of  the 
peculiar  forms  of  intercourse  which  may  hereafter  be  noticed 
between  the  brother  and  sister. 

The  news  of  the  battle  of  Camden  had  not  yet  reached  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Dove  Cote ;  but  the  time  drew  nigh  when  all 
the  country  stood  on  tiptoe,  anxious  to  receive  tidings  of  that  inter¬ 
esting  event.  A  week  had  elapsed  without  bringing  letters  from* 
Butler ;  and  Mildred  was  gi-owing  imeasy  at  this  interval  of  silence. 
There  was  a  struggle  in  her  mind ;  an  unpleasant  foreboding 
that  she  was  almost  ashamed  to  acknowledge,  and  yet  which  she 
could  not  subdue.  The  country  was  full  of  reports  of  the  lios- 
tile  operations,  and  a  thousand  surmises  were  entertained,  which 
varied  according  to  the  more  sanguine  or  desponding  tempers  of 
the  persons  who  made  them.  Mildred  was  taught  by  Butler  to 
expect  defeat,  yet  still  she  hoped  for  victory;  but  the  personal 
fate  of  her  lover  stole  upon  her  conjectures,  and  she  could  not 
keep  down  the  misgiving  which  affection  generally  exaggerates, 
and  always  renders  painful.  In  this  state  of  doubt,  it  was  observ¬ 
able  that  her  manners  occasionally  rose  to  a  higher  tone  of  play¬ 
fulness  than  was  natural  to  her;  and  by  turns  they  sank  to  a 
moody  silence,  showing  that  the  equipoise  of  the  mind  was  dis- 


372 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


turbed,  and  that  the  scales  did  not  hang  true  :  it  was  the  struggle 
of  mental  resolution  with  a  coward  heart — a  heart  intimidated 
by  its  affections. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  when,  in  the  latter  fortnight  of 
August,  the  morning  ushered  in  a  day  of  unsurpassed  beauty.  The 
air  was  elastic ;  the  cool  breeze  played  upon  the  shrubbery,  and 
stole  the  perfume  of  a  thousand  flowers.  The  birds  sang  with 
unwonted  vivacity  from  the  neighboring  trees ;  and  the  sun  lighted 
up  the  mountains  with  a  golden  splendor,  the  fast  drifting  clouds 
flinging  theff  shadows  upon  the  forest  that  clothed  the  hills  around, 
and  the  eagle  and  the  buzzard  sailing  in  the  highest  heavens,  or 
eddying  around  the  beetling  cliffs  with  a  glad  flight,  as  if  rejoicing 
in  the  luxuries  of  the  cool  summer  morning.  Breakfast  was  scarcely 
over  before  Henry  was  seen  upon  the  terrace,  arrayed  in  his  hunt¬ 
ing  dress.  His  bugle  was  daintily  suspended  by  a  green  cord  across 
his  shoulders ;  it  was  a  neat  and  glittering  instrument,  whose  gai-ni- 
ture  was  bedizened  with  the  coxcombry  of  silken  tassels,  and  was 
displayed  as  ostentatiously  as  if  worn  by  the  hero  of  a  melodrame. 

Like  St.  Swithin  in  the  ballad,  he  had  “  footed  thrice  the  wold,” 
when  he  put  the  bugle  to  his  mouth  and  “  blew  a  recheate  both 
loud  and  long.” 

“  How  now,  good  master  Puff,”  said  Mildred,  coming  up  play¬ 
fully  to  her  brother,  “  what  means  this  uproar  ?  Pray  you,  have 
%nercy  on  one’s  ears.” 

Henry  turned  towards  his  sister,  without  taking  the  bugle  from 
his  lips,  and  continued  the  blast  for  a  full  minute  ;  then,  ceasing 
only  from  want  of  breath,  he  said,  with  a  comic  earnestness — 

“  I’m  practising  my  signals,  sister ;  I  can  give  you  ‘  to  Horse,’ 
and  ‘  Keveillee,’  and  ‘  Roast  Beef,’  like  a  trained  trumpeter.” 

“  Truly  you  are  a  proper  man,  master,”  replied  Mildred.  “  But 
it  is  hardly  a  time,”  she  continued,  half  muttering  to  herself,  “  for 
you  and  me,  Heniy,  to  wear  light  hearts  in  our  bosoms.” 

“  Why,  sister,”  said  Henry,  with  some  astonishment  in  his  looks, 
“  this  seems  to  me  to  be  the  very  time  to  practise  my  signals.  We 
are  at  the  very  tug  of  the  war,  and  every  man  that  has  a  sword,  or 
bugle  either,  should  be  up  and  doing.” 

“  How  come  on  your  studies,  brother  ?”  interrupted  Mildred, 
without  heeding  Henry’s  interpretation  of  1  is  duty. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSOK. 


373 


“  Oh,  rarely  !  I  know  most  of  the  speeches  of  Coriolanus  all  by 
heart : — 

“  ‘  Like  an  eagle  in  a  dove  cote,  I 
Fluttered  your  voices  in  Corioli : 

Alone  I  did  it. — ^Boy  1’  ” 

he  spouted,  quoting  from  the  play,  and  accompanying  his  recita¬ 
tion  with  some  extravagant  gestures. 

“  This  is  easy  work,  Henry,”  said  Mildred  laughing,  “  there  is 
too  much  of  the  holiday  play  in  that.  I  thought  you  were  study¬ 
ing  some  graver  things,  instead  of  these  bragging  heroics.  You 
pretended  to  be  very  earnest,  hut  a  short  time  ago,  to  make  a 
soldier  of  yourself.” 

“  Well,  and  don’t  you  call  this  soldiership  ?  Suppose  I  were  to 
pounce  down  upon  Cornwallis — his  lordship,  as  that  fellow  Tyrrel 
calls  him — just  in  that  same  fashion.  I  warrant  they  would  say 
there  was  some  soldiership  in  it !  But,  sister,  haven’t  I  been  stu¬ 
dying  the  attack  and  defence  of  fortified  places,  I  wonder  ?  And 
what  call  you  that  ?  Look  now,  here  is  a  regular  hexagon,”  con¬ 
tinued  Henry,  making  lines  upon  the  gi’avel  walk  with  a  stick, 
“  here  is  the  bastion, — these  lines  are  the  flank, — the  face, — the 
gorge :  here  is  the  curtain.  Now,  my  first  parallel  is  around  here, 
six  hundred  paces  from  the  counterscarp.  But  I  could  have  taken 
Charleston  myself  in  half  the  time  that  poking  fellow,  Clinton,  did- 
it,  if  I  had  been  there,  and  one  of  his  side,  which — thank  my  stars 
— I  am  not.” 

“  You  are  entirely  out  of  my  depth,  brother,”  interrupted  Mil¬ 
dred. 

“  I  know  I  am.  How  should  women  he  expected  to  understand 
these  matters  ?  Go  to  your  knitting,  sister  :  you  can’t  teach  me.” 

“  Have  you  studied  the  Military  Catechism,  Henry  ?  that,  you 
know,  Baron  Steuben  requhes  of  all  the  young  officers.” 

“Most,”  replied  Henry.  “Not  quite  through  it.  I  hate  this 
getting  prose  by  heart.  Shakspeare  is  more  to  my  mind  than 
Baron  Steuben.  But  I  will  tell  you  what  I  like,  sister  ;  I  like  the 
management  of  the  horse.  I  can  passage,  and  lunge,  and  change 
feet,  and  throw  upon  the  haunches,  with  e’er  a  man  in  Amherst  or 
Albemarle  either,  may  be.” 


3'74 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  You  told  me  you  had  practised  firing  from  your  saddle.” 

“  To  be  sure  I  did  ;  and  look  here,”  replied  the  cadet,  taking  oflf 
his  cap  and  showing  a  hole  in  the  cloth.  “  Do  you  see  that,  Mil¬ 
dred  ?  I  flung  the  cap  into  the  air,  and  put  a  ball  through  it  before 
it  fell — at  a  gallop.” 

“  Well  done,  master;  you  come  on  bravely  !” 

“  And  another  thing  I  have  to  tell  you,  which,  perhaps,  Mildred, 
you  will  laugh  to  hear  : — I  have  taken  to  a  rough  way  of  sleeping. 
I  want  to  harden  myself ;  so,  I  fling  a  blanket  on  the  floor  and 
stretch  out  on  it — and  sleep  like — ” 

“  Like  what,  good  brother ;  you  are  posed  for  a  comparison.” 

“  Like  the  sleeping  beauty,  sister.” 

“  Ha  !  ha  !  that’s  a  most  incongruous  and  impertinent  simile !” 

“  Well,  like  a  Trojan,  or  a  woodman,  or  a  dragoon,  or  like  Ste¬ 
phen  Foster,  and  that  is  as  far  as  sleeping  can  go.  I  have  a  notion 
of  trying  it  in  the  woods  one  of  these  nights — ^if  I  can  get  Stephen 
to  go  along.” 

“  Why  not  try  it  alone  ?” 

“  Why  it’s  a  sort  of  an  awkward  thing  to  be  entirely  by  one’s 
self  in  the  woods,  the  livelong  night — it  is  lonesome,  you  know, 
sister  ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  almost  suspect  I  am  a  little  afraid 
of  ghosts.” 

“  Indeed !  and  you  a  man  !  That’s  a  strange  fear  for  a  young 
Coriolanus.  Suppose  you  should  get  into  the  wars,  and  should 
happen  to  be  posted  as  a  sentinel  at  some  remote  spot — far  from 
your  comrades ;  on  picket,  I  think  you  call  it  ?  (Henry  nodded) 
on  a  dark  night,  would  you  desert  your  duty  for  fear  of  a  gob¬ 
lin?” 

“  I  would  die  first,  Mildred.  I  would  stick  it  out,  if  I  made  an 
earthquake  by  trembling  in  my  shoes.” 

Mildred  laughed. 

“  And  then  if  a  ghost  should  rise  up  out  of  the  ground,”  she 
continued,  with  a  mock  solemnity  of  manner. 

“  I  would  whistle  some  tune,”  interrupted  Henry.  “  That’s  an 
excellent  way  to  keep  down  fear.” 

“  Shame  on  you,  to  talk  of  fear,  brother.” 

“  Only  of  ghosts,  sister,  not  of  men.” 

“  You  must  Qure  yourself  of  this  childish  apprehension,  master.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


375 


“  And  how  shall  I  do  so,  Mildred  ?  I  have  heard  people  say 
that  the  bravest  men  have  been  alarmed  by  spirits.” 

“  You  must  accustom  yourself  to  midnight  houi-s  and  dark  places, 
all  alone.  Our  poor  mother  taught  you  this  fear.” 

“  I  should  think  of  her,  Mildred,  until  my  heart  would  burst, 
and  my  cheek  grew  pale  as  ashes,”  said  Henry,  with  an  earnest 
and  solemn  emphasis. 

“  Her  spirit,  could  it  rise,  would  love  you,  brother ;  it  would 
never  seek  to  do  you  harm,”  replied  Mildred  thoughtfully. 

“  Sister,”  said  Henry,  “  you  came  here  in  sport,  but  you  have 
made  me  very  sad.” 

Mildred  walked  oflF  a  few  paces  and  remained  gazing  stead¬ 
fastly  over  the  parapet.  When  she  looked  back  she  saw  Henry 
approaching  her. 

“  Y ou  stoop,  brother,  in  your  gait,”  she  said,  “  that’s  a  slovenly 
habit.” 

“  It  comes,  sister,  of  my  climbing  these  mountains  so  much.  We 
mountaineers  naturally  get  a  stoop  on  the  hill-sides.  But  if  you 
think,”  continued  Henry,  reverting  to  the  subject  which  had  just 
been  broken  off,  “  it  would  make  me  bolder  to  watch  of  nijrhts.  I 

O  / 

should  not  care  to  try  it.” 

“  I  would  have  you,”  said  Mildred,  “  walk  your  rounds,  like  a 
patrole,  through  the  woods  from  twelve  until  two,  every  night  for 
a  week.” 

“  Agreed,  sister — rain  or  shine.” 

“  And  then  I  shall  think  you  completely  cured  of  this  unsoldier¬ 
like  infirmity,  when  you  are  able  to  march  as  far  as  the  church, 
and  serve  one  tour  of  duty  in  the  grave-yard.” 

“  By  myself  ?”  inquired  Henry,  with  concern. 

“You  wouldn’t  have  me  go  with  you,  brother?” 

“  I  should  feel  very  brave  if  you  did,  Mildred ;  for  you  are  as 
brave  as  a  general.  But  if  Stephen  Foster  will  keep  in  the  neigh¬ 
borhood — near  enough  to  hear  my ‘All’s  well’ — I  think  I  could 
stand  it  out.” 

“You  must  go  alone,”  said  Mildred,  cheerfully,  “before  I  shall 
think  you  fit  to  be  promoted.” 

“  If  you  say  I  must,  sister  Mildred,  why,  then  I  must :  and  there’s 
an  end  of  it.  But  your  discipline  is  forty  times  more  severe  than 


376 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


the  German  Baron’s  at  Richmond.  Father  looks  pale  this  morn¬ 
ing,”  continued  Henry,  as  he  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  porch, 
where  Mr.  Lindsay  was  now  seen  walking  forward  and  hack,  with 
his  arms  folded  across  his  breast.  “  Something  perpetually  troubles 
him,  Mildred.  I  wish  that  devil,  Tyrrel,  had  been  buried  before 
he  ever  found  his  way  to  the  Dove  Cote  !  See  he  comes  this 
way.” 

Both  Mildred  and  Henry  ran  to  meet  Lindsay,  and  encountered 
him  before  he  had  advanced  a  dozen  paces  over  the  lawn. 

“  Such  a  day,  father !”  said  Mildred,  as  she  affectionately  took 
his  hand.  “  It  is  a  luxury  to  breathe  this  air.” 

“  God  has  given  us  a  beautiful  heaven,  my  children,  and  a  rich 
and  bountiful  earth.  He  has  filled  them  both  with  blessings.  Man 
only  mars  them  with  his  cursed  passions,”  said  Lindsay,  with  a 
sober  accent. 

“  You  have  heard  bad  news,  father  ?”  said  Henry,  inquiringly ; 
“  what  has  happened  ?” 

Mildred  grew  suddenly  pale. 

“We  shall  hear  glorious  news,  boy,  before  many  days,”  replied 
Lindsay ;  “  as  yet,  all  is  uncertain.  Henry,  away  to  your  sports, 
or  to  your  studies.  Mildred,  I  have  something  for  your  ear,  and 
so,  my  child,  walk  with  me  a  while.” 

Henry  took  his  leave,  looking  back  anxiously  at  his  sister,  whose 
countenance  expressed  painful  alarm.  Mildred  accompanied  her 
father  slowly  and  silently  to  the  small  veranda  that  shaded  the 
door  of  the  gable  next  the  terrace. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


MILDRED  PUT  TO  A  SEVERE  TRIAL  t - HER  FIRMNESS, 

“  Mr  mind  troubles  me,”  said  Lindsay  :  “  Mildred,  hear  me — and 
mark  what  I  say.  Our  fortunes  are  coming  to  a  period  of  deep 
interest :  it  is  therefore  no  time  to  deal  in  evasive  speeches,  or  to 
dally  with  coy  and  girlish  feelings.  I  wish,  my  daughter,  to  be 
understood.” 

“  Father,  .have  I  offended  you  ?”  inquired  Mildred,  struck  with 
the  painful  and  almost  repulsive  earnestness  of  Lindsay’s  manner. 

“  Arthur  Butler  has  been  at  the  Dove  Cote,”  he  said,  sternly, 
“  and  you  have  concealed  it  from  me.  That  was  not  like  my 
child.” 

“Father!”  exclaimed  Mildred,  bursting  into  tears. 

“  Nay — these  tears  shall  not  move  me  from  my  resolution.  As 
a  parent  I  had  a  right,  Mildred,  to  expect  obedience  from  you ; 
but  you  saw  him  in  the  very  despite  of  my  commands  :  here,  on 
the  confines  of  the  Dove  Cote,  you  saw  him.” 

“  I  did— I  did.” 

“  And  you  were  silent,  and  kept  your  secret  from  your  father’s 
bosom.” 

“  You  forbade  me  to  speak  of  him,”  replied  Mildred,  in  a  low 
and  sobbing  voice,  “  and  banished  me  from  your  presence  when  I 
but  brought  his  name  upon  my  lips.” 

“  He  is  a  villain,  daughter ;  a  base  wretch  that  would  murder 
my  peace,  and  steal  my  treasure  from  my  heart.” 

Mildred  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  and  trembled  in  silent 
agony. 

“  I  have  received  letters,”  continued  liindsay,  “  that  disclose  to 
me  a  vile  plot  against  my  life.  This  same  Butler — this  furious  and 
fanatic  rebel — has  been  lurking  in  the  neighborhood  of  my  house, 
to  watch  my  family  motions,  to  pry  into  the  character  of  my  guests, 

377 


378 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


to  possess  himself  of  my  sacred  confidences,  to  note  the  incoming  and 
the  out-going  of  my  most  attached  friends,  and  thereupon  to  build 
an  accusation  of  treason  before  this  unholy  and  most  accursed  power 
that  has  usurped  dominion  in  the  land.  I  am  to  he  denounced  to 
these  malignant  masters,  and  to  suffer  such  penalties  as  their  pas¬ 
sions  may  adjudge.  And  all  this  through  the  agency  of  a  man 
who  is  cherished  and  applauded  by  my  own  daughter  !” 

“  My  dear  father,  who  has  thus  abused  your  mind,  and  led  your 
thoughts  into  a  current  so  foreign  from  that  calm  judgment  with 
which  you  have  been  accustomed  to  look  upon  the  things  of  life  ?” 

“  Can  you  deny,  Mildred,  that  this  Butler  followed  Tyi-rel  to  the 
Dove  Cote ;  lay  concealed  here,  close  at  hand ;  sought  by  discourse 
through  some  of  his  coadjutors  with  Tyrrel’s  servant,  to  learn  the 
object  of  TyiTel’s  visit ;  and  offered  gross  outrage  to  the  man  when 
he  failed  to  persuade  him  to  betray  his  master  ?  Can  you  deny 
this  ?  Can  you  deny  that  he  fled  precipitately  from  his  hiding- 
place  when  he  could  no  longer  conceal  his  piu’pose? — and,  know¬ 
ing  these  things,  can  you  doubt  he  is  a  villain  ?” 

“  He  is  no  villain,  father,”  said  Mildred,  indignantly.  “  These 
are  the  wi-etched  forgeries  of  that  unworthy  man  who  has  won  your 
confidence — a  man  who  is  no  less  an  enemy  to  your  happiness  than 
he  is  a  selfish  contriver  against  mine.  The  story  is  not  true :  it  is 
one  of  Tyrrel’s  basest  falsehoods.” 

“  And  Butler  was  not  here ;  you  would  persuade  me  so,  Mil¬ 
dred  ?” 

“  He  was  in  the  neighborhood  for  a  single  night ;  he  journeyed 
southwards  in  the  course  of  his  duty,”  answered  Mildred,  mildly. 

“  And  had  no  confederates  with  him  f” 

“  He  was  attended  by  a  guide — only  one — and  hurried  onwai’ds 
without  delay.” 

“  And  you  met  him  on  that  single  night — by  accident,  I  sup¬ 
pose  ?” 

“  Do  you  doubt  my  truth,  father  ?” 

“  Mildred,  Mildred !  you  will  break  my  heart.  Why  was  he 
here  at  all — why  did  you  meet  him  ?” 

“  He  came,  father — ”  said  Mildred,  struggling  to  speak  through 
a  sudden  burst  of  tears. 

“  Silence  !  I  will  hear  no  apology !”  exclaimed  Lindsay.  Then 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


379 


relenting  in  an  instant,  lio  took  liis  daughter’s  hand,  as  he  said  : 
“  My  child,  thou  art  innocent  in  thy  nature,  and  knowest  not  the 
evil  imaginings  of  this  world.  He  wickedly  lied,  if  he  told  you 
that  he  came  casually  hither,  or  that  his  stay  was  circumscribed 
to  one  short  night.  I  have  proofs,  full  and  satisfactory,  that,  for 
several  days,  he  lay  concealed  in  this  vicinity  ;  and,  moreover,  that 
his  scheme  was  frustrated  only  by  an  unexpected  discovery,  made 
through  the  indiscretion  of  a  drunken  bully,  who  came  linked  with 
him  in  his  foul  embassy.  It  was  a  shameless  lie,  invented  to 
impose  upon  your  credulity,  if  he  gave  you  room  to  believe  other¬ 
wise.” 

“  Arthur  Butler  scorns  a  falsehood,  father,  with  the  deepest  scorn 
that  belongs  to  a  noble  mind,  and  would  resent  the  charge  with 
the  spirit  of  a  valiant  and  virtuous  man.  K  Mr.  Tyrrel  have  such 
accusations  to  make,  it  would  be  fitter  they  should  be  made  face 
to  face  with  the  mau  he  would  slander,  than  in  my  father’s  ear. 
But  it  is  the  nature  of  the  serpent  to  sting  in  the  gi’ass,  not  openly 
to  encounter  his  victim.” 

“The  first  duty  of  a  trusty  fi-iend  is  to  give  warning  of  the 
approach  of  an  enemy — and  that  has  Tyrrel  done.  For  this  act  of 
service  does  he  deserve  yom-  rebuke?  Could  you  expect  aught 
else  of  an  honorable  gentleman  ?  Shame  on  you,  daughter !” 

“Father,  I  know  the  tale  to  be  wickedly,  atrociously  false. 
Arthur  Butler  is  not  your  enemy.  Sooner  would  he  lay  down  his 
life  than  even  indulge  a  thought  of  harm  to  you.  His  coming 
hither  was  not  unknown  to  me — his  delay,  but  one  brief  night ; 
business  of  great  moment  called  him  hastily  towards  the  army  of 
the  south.” 

“  You  speak  like  a  girl,  Mildred.  I  have,  against  this  tale,  the 
avowal  of  a  loyal  and  brave  soldier.  Aye,  and  let  me  tell  you — 
favorably  as  you  may  deem  of  this  false  and  traitorous  rebel — his 
wily  arts  have  been  foiled,  and  quick  vengeance  is  now  upon  his 
path — his  doom  is  fixed.” 

“  For  heaven’s  sake,  father,  dear  father,  tell  me  what  this  means. 
Have  you  heard  of  Arthur  ?”  cried  Mildred,  in  the  most  impas¬ 
sioned  accents  of  distress,  at  the  same  time  throwing  her  head  upon 
Lindsay’s  breast.  “  Oh,  God !  have  you  heard  aught  of  harm  to 
him  ?” 


380 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON.’ 

“  Girl !  foolish,  mad,  self-willed  girl !”  exclaimed  Lindsay, 
disengaging  himself  from  his  daughter,  and  rising  from  his  seat 
and  angrily  striding  a  few  paces  upon  the  terrace.  “Dare  you 
show  this  contumacy  to  me  !  No,  I  did  not  mean  that — have  you 
the  heart,  Mildred,  to  indulge  these  passionate  fervors  for  the  man 
I  hate  more  than  I  can  hate  any  other  living  thing !  He,  a  wretch, 
upon  whose  head  I  invoke  nightly  curses  !  A  loathsome,  ahhon-ed 
image  to  my  mind !  Hear  me,  Mildred,  and  hear  me,  though 
your  heart  break  while  I  utter  it — May  the  felon’s  death  whelm 
him  and  his  name  in  eternal  disgrace  ! — may  his  present  captivity 
be  beset  with  all  the  horrors  of  friendliness,  unpitied — ” 

“  His  captivity,  father !  And  has  he  then  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy  ?  Quick  1  tell  me  all ! — I  shall  die — my  life  is 
wrapped  up  in  his !”  ejaculated  Mildred,  in  agony,  as  she  sprang 
towards  her  father  and  seized  his  arm,  and  then  sank  at  his  feet. 

“  For  God’s  sake,  my  child !”  said  Lindsay,  becoming  alarmed 
at  the  violence  of  the  paroxysm  he  had  excited,  and  now  hfting  his 
daughter  from  the  ground.  “  Mildred ! — speak,  girl !  This  emo¬ 
tion  will  drive  me  mad.  Oh,  fate,  fate ! — how  unerringly  dost 
thou  fulfil  the  sad  predictions  of  my  spirit!  How  darkly  does  the 
curse  hang  upon  my  household  I  Mildred,  dear  daughter,  pardon 
my  rash  speech.  I  would  not  harm  thee,  child — no,  not  for  worlds  1” 

“  Father,  you  have  cruelly  tortui’ed  my  soul,”  said  Mildred, 
reviving  from  the  half  lifeless  state  into  which  she  had  fallen,  and 
which  for  some  moments  had  denied  her  speech.  “  Tell  me  all ; 
on  my  knees,  father,  I  implore  you.” 

“  It  was  a  hasty  word,  daughter,”  replied  Lindsay,  iU  concealing 
the  perturbation  of  his  feelings ;  “  I  meant  not  what  I  said.” 

“Nay,  dear  father,”  said  Mildred,  “I  am  prepared  to  hear  the 
worst ;  you  spoke  of  Arthur’s  captivity.” 

“  It  was  only  a  rumor,”  replied  Lindsay,  struck  with  apprehension 
at  his  daughter’s  earnestness,  and  now  seeking  to  allay  the  feeling 
his  hint  had  aroused  in  her  mind ;  “it  may  be  exaggerated  by 
Tyrrel,  whose  letter,  hastily  written,  mentions  the  fact,  that  Butler 
had  been  made  a  prisoner  by  some  bands  of  Tories,  amongst  whom 
he  had  rashly  ventured.  The  clemency  of  his  king  may  yet  win 
him  back  to  his  allegiance.  A  salutary  confinement,  at  least,  will 
deprive  him  of  the  power  of  mischief.  His  lands  will  be  confiscat- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


381 


ed — and  the  close  of  the  -war,  now  fast  approaching,  will  find  him 
a  houseless  adventurer,  baffled  in  his  treason,  and  unpitied  by  all 
good  men.  This  should  persuade  you,  Mildred,  to  renounce  your 
unnatural  attachment,  and  to  think  no  more  of  one  whose  cause 
heaven  has  never  sanctioned,  and  whose  condition  in  life  should 
forbid  all  pretension  to  your  regard — one,  above  all,  repulsive  even 
to  loathing  to  the  thoughts  of  your  father.” 

“  I  loved  him,  father,  in  his  happiest  and  brightest  day,”  said 
Mildred,  firmly  ;  “  I  cannot  desert  him  in  his  adversity.  Oh,  speak 
to  me  no  more  !  Let  me  go  to  my  chamber ;  I  am  ill  and  cannot 
bear  this  torrent  of  your  displeasure.” 

“  I  will  not  detain  you,  Mildred.  In  sorrow  and  suffering,  but 
still  with  a  father’s  affection  as  warmly  shining  on  you  as  when,  in 
earliest  infancy,  I  fondled  thee  upon  my  knee,  I  part  with  thee 
now.  One  kiss,  girl.  There,  let  that  make  peace  between  us.  For 
your  sake  and  my  own,  I  pledge  my  word  never  tq  distress  you 
with  this  subject  again.  Destiny  must  have  its  way,  and  I  must 
bide  the  inevitable  doom.” 

With  a  heavy  heart  and  an  exhausted  frame,  Mildred  slowly 
and  tearfully  withdrew. 

Lindsay  remained  some  time  fixed  upon  the  spot  where  his 
daughter  had  left  him.  He  was  like  a  man  stupefied  and  astounded 
by  a  blow.  His  conference  had  ended  in  a  manner  that  he  had 
not  prepared  himself  to  expect.  The  imputed  treachery  of  Butler, 
derived  from  Tyrrel’s  letters,  had  not  struck  alarm  into  the  heart  of 
Mildred,  as  he  had  supposed  it  could  not  fail  to  do.  The  wicked 
fabrication  had  only  recoiled  upon  the  inventor ;  and  Mildred, 
with  the  resolute,  confident,  and  unfaltering  attachment  of  her  na¬ 
ture,  clung  with  a  nobler  devotion  to  her  lover.  To  Lindsay,  in 
whose  mind  no  distrust  of  the  honesty  of  Tyrrel  could  find  shelter ; 
whose  prejudices  and  peculiar  temperament  came  in  aid  of  the 
gi-oss  and  disgraceful  imputation  which  the  letters  inferred,  the 
constancy  and  generous  fervor  of  his  daughter  towards  the  cause 
of  Butler  seemed  to  be  a  mad  and  fatal  infatuation. 

Ever  since  his  first  interview  with  Mildred  on  the  subject  of  her 
attachment,  his  mind  had  been  morbidly  engrossed  with  the  reflec¬ 
tions  to  which  it  had  given  rise.  There  was  such  a  steadiness  of 
purpose  apparent  in  her  behavior,  such  an  unchangeable  resolve 


382 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


avowed,  as  seemed  to  him,  in  the  circumstances  of  her  condition,  to 
defy  and  stand  apart  from  the  ordinary  and  natural  impulses  by 
which  human  conduct  is  regulated.  He  gi-ew  daily  more  abstracted 
and  moody  in  his  contemplations ;  and  as  study  and  thought  gave 
a  still  graver  complexion  to  his  feelings,  his  mind  fled  back  upon 
his  presentiments ;  and  that  intense,  scholar-like  superstition,  which 
J  have  heretofore  described  as  one  of  the  tendencies  of  his  nature, 
/began  more  actively  to  conjure  up  its  phantasmagoria  before  his 
mental  vision.  A  predominating  trait  of  this  superstition  was  an 
increasing  conviction  that,  in  Mildred’s  connexion  with  Ai-thur 
Butler,  there  was  associated  some  signal  doom  to  hirhself,  that  was 
to  afiect  the  fortunes  of  his  race.  It  was  a  vague,  misty,  obscure 
consciousness  of  impending  fate,  the  loss  of  reason  or  the  loss  of 
hfe  that  was  to  ensue  upon  that  alliance  if  it  should  ever  take 
|)lace. 

It  was  such  a  presentiment  that  now,  in  the  solitary  path  of 
Lindsay’s  life,  began  to  be  magnified  into  a  ripening  certainty  of 
ill.  The  needle  of  his  mind  trembled  upon  its  pivot,  and  began  to 
decline  towards  a  fearful  point ;  that  point  was — frenzy.  His 

studies  favored  this  apprehension — they  led  him  into  the  world  of 
\dsions.  The  circumstances  of  his  position  favored  it.  He  was 
perplexed  by  the  intrigues  of  politicians,  against  whom  he  had  no 
defence  in  temper  nor  worldly  skill ;  he  was  deluded  by  false  views 
of  events :  he  was  embarrassed  and  dissatisfied  with  himself :  above 
/all,  he  was  wi-ought  upon,  bewildered,  and  glamoured  (to  use  a 
'  most  expressive  Scotch  phrase)  by  the  remembrance  of  a  sickly 
di-eam. 

■  Thus  hunted  and  badgered  by  circumstances,  he  fled  with  avidity 
to  the  disclosures  made  in  Tyrrel’s  letters,  to  try,  as  a  last  effort, 
their  effect  upon  Mildred,  hoping  that  the  tale  there  told  might 
divert  her  from  a  purpose  which  now  fed  all  his  melancholy. 

The  reader  has  just  seen  how  the  experiment  had  failed. 

Lindsay  retired  to  his  study,  and,  through  the  remainder  of  the 
day,  sought  refuge  from  his  meditations  in  the  converse  of  his 
books.  These  mute  companions,  for  once,  failed  to  bring  him  their 
customary  balm.  His  feelings  had  been  turned,  by  the  events  of 
the  morning,  into  a  current  that  bore  them  impetuously  along 
towards  a  dark  and  troubled  ocean  of  thought ;  and  when  the 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


383 


shades  of  evening  had  fallen  around  him,  he  was  seen  pacing  the 
ten-ace  with  a  slow  and  measured  step. 

“  It  is  plain  she  passionately  loves  Butler,”  he  said,  “  in  despite 
of  all  the  visible  influences  around  her.  Her  education,  habits, 
afl'ections,  duty — all  set  in  an  opposing  tide  against  this  passion, 
and  yef  does  it  master  them  all.  That  I  should  be  bound  to  mine 
enemy  by  a  chain,  whose  strongest  link  is  forged  by  my  own 
daughter.  She — Mildred ! — No,  no — that  link  was  not  forged  by 
her :  it  hath  not  its  shape  from  human  workmanship.  Oh,  that 
like  those  inspired  enthusiasts  who,  in  times  of  old, — yea,  and  in  a 
later  day — have  been  able  to  open  the  Book  of  Destiny,  and  to 
read  the  passages  of  man’s  future  life,  I  might  get  one  glimpse  of 
that  forbidden  page ! — To  what  a  charitable  use  might  I  apply  the 
knowledge.  Wise  men  have  studied  the  journeyings  of  the  stars, 
and  have — as  they  deemed — discovered  the  secret  spell  by  which 
yon  shining  orbs  sway  and  compel  the  animal  existences  of  this 
earth  ;  even  as  the  moon  governs  the  flow  of  the  ocean,  or  the 
fever  of  the  human  brain.  Who  shall  say  what  is  the  invisible 
tissue — what  the  innumerable  cords — that  tie  this  planet  and  all 
its  material  natures  to  the  millions  of  worlds  with  which  it  is 
afBned  ?  What  is  tjiat  mysterious  thing  which  men  call  attraction, 
that  steadies  these  spheres  in  their  tangled  pathways  through  the 
great  void  ? — that  urges  their  swift  and  fearful  career  into  the  track 
of  their  voyage,  without  the  deviation  of  the  breadth  of  a  single 
hair — rolling  on  the  same  from  eternity  to  eternity  ?  How  awfully 
does  the  thought  annihilate  our  feeble  and  presumptuous  philoso¬ 
phy  !  Is  it,  then,  to  excite  the  scorn  of  the  wise,  if  we  assert  that 
some  kindred  power  may  shape  out  and  direct  the  wanderings  of 
man  ? — that  an  unseen  hand  may  lay  the  threads  by  which  this 
tottering  creature  is  to  travel  through  the  labyrinth  of  this  world  ; 
aye,  and  after  it  is  done,  to  point  out  to  him  his  course  along  the 
dark  and  chill  valley,  which  the  dead  walk  through  companionless 
and  silent  ?  Have  not  men  heard  strange  whispers  in  the  breeze — 
the  voice  of  warning  ?  Have  they  not  felt  the  fanning  of  the  wing 
that  bore  the  secret  messenger  through  the  aii-  ?  Have  they  not 
seen  some  floating  fold  of  the  robe  as  it  passed  by  ?  O  God  ! — 
have  they  not  seen  the  dead  arise  ?  What  are  these  but  the  com- 

17* 


384 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


munings,  the  points  of  contact,  between  the  earthy  and  spiritual 
worlds — the  essences  or  intelligences  that  sometimes  flit  across  the 
confine  of  our  gross  sphere,  and  speak  to  the  children  of  clay  ? 
And  wherefore  do  they  speak,  but  that  the  initiated  may  regard 
the  sign,  and  walk  in  safety  ?  Or,  perchance,  some  mischief-hatch¬ 
ing  fiend, — for  such,  too,  are  permitted  to  be  busy  to  mar  the  good 
that  God  has  made — may  speak  in  malice  to  allure  us  from  our 
better  purpose.  Aye,  as  aptly  this,  as  the  other.  Miserable  child 
of  doubt,  how  art  thou  beset !  Let  the  vain  pedant  prate  of  his 
philosophy,  let  the  soldier  boast  his  valor,  the  learned  scholar  his 
scepticism,  and  the  worldling  laugh  his  scorn,  yet  do  they  each  and 
all  yield  homage  to  this  belief.  There  comes  a  time  of  honest 
self-confession,  of  secret  meditation  to  all,  and  then  the  boding  spirit 
rises  to  his  proper  mastery :  then  does  instinct  smother  argument : 
then  do  the  darkness  of  the  midnight  hour,  the  howling  wind,  the 
rush  of  the  torrent,  the  lonesomeness  of  the  forest  and  the  field, 
shake  the  strong  nerves  ;  and  the  feeble,  pigmy  man,  trembles  at 
his  own  imaginings.” 

In  such  a  strain  did  Lindsay  nurse  his  doubting  superstition  ; 
and  by  these  degrees  was  it  that  his  mind  soothed  itself  doivn 
into  a  calmer  tone  of  resignation.  In  proportion  as  this  fanciful 
and  distempered  philosophy  inclined  his  reflection  towards  the 
belief  of  preternatural  influences,  it  suggested  excuses  for  Mildred’s 
seeming  contumacy,  and  inculcated  a  more  indulgent  sentiment  of 
forbearance  in  his  future  intercourse  with  her. 

Towards  the  confirmation  of  this  temper  an  ordinary  incident, 
which,  at  any  other  time,  would  have  passed  without  comment, 
now  contributed.  A  storm  had  arisen :  the  day,  towards  its 
close,  had  grown  sultry,  and  had  engendered  one  of  those  sudden 
gusts  which  belong  to  the  summer  in  this  region.  It  came,  with¬ 
out  premonition,  in  a  violent  tornado,  that  rushed  through  the  air 
with  the  roar  of  a  gi-eat  cataract.  Lindsay  had  scarcely  time  to 
retreat  to  the  cover  of  the  porch,  before  the  heavy-charged  cloud 
poured  forth  its  fury  in  floods  of  rain.  The  incessant  lightnings 
glittered  on  the  descending  drops,  and  illuminated  the  distant 
landscape  with  more  than  the  brilliancy  of  day.  The  most 
remote  peaks  of  the  mountain  were  sheeted  with  the  glare;  and 
the  torrents  that  leaped  down  the  nearer  hill-sides  sparkled  ivith  a 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


385 


dazzling  radiance.  Peal  after  peal  of  abrupt  and  crashing  thundei 
roared  through  the  heavens,  and  echoed  with  terrific  reverbera¬ 
tions  along  the  valleys.  Lindsay  gazed  upon  this  scene,  from  his 
secure  cover,  with  mute  interest,  inwardly  aroused  and  delighted 
with  the  grand  and  sublime  conflict  of  the  elements,  in  a  spot  of 
such  wild  and  compatible  magnificence :  the  solemn  and  awful  emo¬ 
tions  excited  by  these  phenomena  were  exaggerated  by  the  peculiar 
mood  of  his  mind,  and  now  absorbed  all  his  attention.  After  a  bi-ief 
interval,  the  rain  ceased  to  fall  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun  ;  the 
thunder  was  silent,  and  only  a  few  distant  flashes  of  wide-spread 
light  broke  fitfully  above  the  horizon.  The  stars  soon  again  shone 
forth  through  a  transparent  and  placid  heaven,  and  the  moon  sailed 
in  beauty  along  a  cloudless  sea.  The  frog  chirped  again  from  the 
trees,  and  the  far-oflf  owl  hooted  in  the  wood,  resuming  his  melan¬ 
choly  song,  that  had  been  so  briefly  intermitted.  The  foaming 
river  below,  swollen  by  the  recent  rain,  flung  upwards  a  more  lively 
gush  from  its  rocky  bed  :  the  cock  was  heard  to  crow,  as  if  a  new 
day  had  burst  upon  his  harem;  and  the  house-dogs  barked  in 
sport  as  they  gambolled  over  the  wet  grass. 

Lindsay  looked  forth  and  spoke. 

“  How  beautiful  is  the  change !  But  a  moment  since,  and  the 
ang-ry  elements  were  convulsed  with  the  shock  of  war ;  and  now, 
how  calm  !  My  ancient  oaks  have  weathered  the  gale,  and  not  a 
branch  has  been  torn  from  their  hoary  limbs  ;  not  the  most  delicate 
of  Mildred’s  flowers  ;  not  the  tenderest  shrub  has  been  scathed  by 
the  threatening  fires  of  heaven  !  The  Dove  Cote  and  its  inmates 
have  seen  the  storm  sweep  by  without  a  vestige  of  harm.  Kind 
heaven,  grant  that  this  may  be  a  portent  of  our  fortune  ;  and  that, 
when  this  tempest  of  human  passion  has  been  spent,  the  Dove 
Cote  and  its  inhabitants  may  come  forth  as  tranquil,  as  safe,  as 
happy,  as  now — more — yes,  more  happy  than  now  !  Our  ways 
are  in  thy  hands ;  and  I  would  teach  myself  to  submit  to  thy  pro¬ 
vidence  with  patient  hope.  So,  let  it  be  !  I  am  resigned.” 

As  Lindsay  still  occupied  his  position  in  the  porch,  Stephen 
Foster  appeared  before  him  dripping  with  the  rain  of  the  late 
storm. 

“  A  letter,  sir,”  said  Stephen.  “  I  have  just  rode  from  the  post- 


S8G 


HOUSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


office,  and  was  almost  oversot  in  the  gust :  it  catched  me  upon  the 
road  ;  and  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  cross  the  river.  It’s  a 
might}’'  fretful  piece  of  water  after  one  of  these  here  dashes.” 

Lindsay  took  the  packet. 

“  Get  your  supper,  good  Stephen,”  he  said.  “  Order  lights  for 
me  in  the  library  !  Thank  you — thank  you  !” 

When  Lindsay  opened  the  letter,  he  found  it  to  contain  tidings 
of  the  victory  at  Camden,  written  by  Tyrrel.  After  he  had 
perused  the  contents,  it  was  with  a  triumphant  smile  that  he 
exclaimed,  “  And  it  is  come  so  soon  !  Thank  God,  the  omen  has 
proved  true !  a  calmer  and  a  brighter  hour  at  last  opens  upon  us.” 

He  left  the  study  to  communicate  the  news  to  his  children,  and 
spent  the  next  hour  with  Mildred  and  Henry  in  the  parlor.  His 
feelings  had  risen  to  a  happier  key ;  and  it  was  with  some  approach 
to  cheerfulness,  but  little  answered  in  the  looks  or  feelings  of  his 
children,  that  he  retired  to  his  chamber  at  a  late  hour,  where  sleep 
soon  came,  with  its  sweet  oblivion,  to  repair  his  exhausted  spirits, 
and  to  restore  him  to  the  quiet  of  an  easy  mind. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


**■ 


MILDRED  IN  GRIEF. - SHE  IS  NEAR  MAKING  A  DISCLOSURE.  A 

VISITOR  ARRIVES  AT  THE  DOVE  COTE. 


“Then  in  that  hour  remorse  he  felt, 
And  his  heart  told  him  he  had  dealt 
Unkindly  with  his  child.” — Rogers^ 


On  the  following  day  Mildred  confined  herself  to  her  chamber. 
She  had  passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  the  morning  found  her  a 
pale,  anxious,  and  distressed  watcher  of  the  slow  approach  of  light. 
Her  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  fate  of  Butler.  This  topic  over¬ 
whelmed  all  other  cares,  and  struck  deep  and  unmitigated 
anguish  into  her  mind.  The  hints  that  had  been  so  indiscreetly 
dropped  by  her  father,  more  than  if  the  whole  tale  had  been  told, 
had  worked  upon  her  imagination,  and  conjured  up  to  her  appre¬ 
hension  the  certain  destruction  of  her  lover.  In  her  interview 
with  Lindsay,  her  emotions  had  been  controlled  by  the  extreme 
difficulty  of  her  situation.  The  fear  of  rousing  in  her  father  that 
deep  and  solemn  tone  of  passion,  which  had  now  become  the 
infirmity  of  his  mind,  and  almost  threatened  to  “deprive  his 
sovereignty  of  reason,”  and  of  which  she  was  painfully  aware,  had 
subdued  the  strength  of  her  own  feelings — so  far,  at  least,  as  to 
inculcate  a  more  seeming  moderation  than,  in  other  circumstances, 
she  could  have  exhibited.  It  was  the  struggle  between  filial  affec¬ 
tion  and  duty  on  the  one  side,  and  an  ardent,  though  tremblingly 
acknowledged,  attachment  on  the  other.  The  course  that  she  had 
previously  determined  to  pursue,  in  reference  to  the  many  earnest 
and  assiduous  efi’orts  of  Lindsay  to  persuade  her  from  her  love, 
was  steadily  to  persevere  in  the  open  acknowledgment  of  her 
plighted  vow,  and  endeavor  to  win  her  father’s  favor  by  a  calm 
and  gentle  expostulation  ;  or  to  seek,  in  a  respectful  silence,  the 
means  of  averting  the  occasion  of  that  gusty  and  moody  outbreak 

381 


388 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


of  temper,  which  the  peculiar  exacerbation  of  his  mind  was  apt  to 
make  frequent.  She  would  have  resorted  to  this  silence  in  the 
late  communion  with  Lindsay,  if  he  had  not,  with  an  unusual 
bitterness,  denounced  Arthur  Butler  as  the  author  of  a  hateful 
crime  ;  a  crime  which  she  knew  had  been  foully  insinuated  against 
him  by  a  man  of  whose  subtle  wickedness  she  was  persuaded, 
and  whom,  of  all  others,  she  most  heartily  execrated.  She  was, 
therefore,  led  indignantly,  though  temjierately,  to  repel  the  slander 
by  which  her  father’s  hatred  had  been  artfully  envenomed.  But 
when,  in  the  fierce  fervor  of  his  disjileasure,  Lindsay  had  announced 
to  her  the  danger  that  had  befallen  Butler,  the  disclosure  opened 
to  her  mind  a  world  of  misery.  The  late  silence  of  her  lover 
had  already  alarmed  her  fears,  and  this  announcement  suggested 
the  worst  of  the  many  anxious  conjectures  which  her  brooding 
sjiirit  had  imagined  as  the  cause  of  that  absence  of  tidings.  Her 
emotions  upon  this  disclosure  were  those  of  a  bursting  heart 
that  dared  not  trust  itself  with  words ;  and  when  her  father,  see¬ 
ing  the  unlooked-for  mischief  he  had  done,  sought  to  temper  his 
speech,  and  retract  some  of  the  harshness  of  his  communication, 
by  an  explanation,  the  only  effect  was,  for  the  moment,  to  take 
off  the  edge  of  her  keenest  grief.  But  when  she  left  his  pre¬ 
sence,  and  recovered  herself  sufficiently  to  recall  all  that  had 
passed,  the  dreadful  thought  of  disaster  to  Butler,  came  back 
upon  her  imagination  with  all  the  horrors  which  a  fond  heart 
could  summon  around  it.  A  weary  hour  was  spent  in  sobs  and 
tears ;  and  it  was  only  by  the  blandishments  of  her  brother 
Henry’s  kind  and  earnest  sympathy,  when  the  youth  found  her  in 
the  parlor  thus  whelmed  in  sorrow,  and  by  his  manly  and 
cheering  reckoning  of  the  many  chances  of  safety  that  attend  the 
footsteps  of  a  prudent  and  a  brave  man,  that  she  began  to  regain 
that  resolute  equanimity  that  was  a  natural  and  even  predominat¬ 
ing  attribute  of  her  character. 

When  Lindsay  came  into  the  parlor  with  the  tidings  of  the 
victory  at  Camden,  such  was  the  state  in  which  he  found  her ;  and 
whilst  he  announced  to  her  that  event  which  had  given  him  so 
much  joy,  he  was  not  unheedful  of  the  pang  he  had  previously 
inflicted,  and  now  endeavored  to  make  amends  by  throwing  in 
some  apparently  casual,  though  intentional,  reference  to  the  condi- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


389 


tion  of  Butler,  who,  he  doubted  not,  would  now  be  disposed  of  on 
easy  terms.  “  Perhaps,”  he  continued,  “  as  the  war  was  drawing 
to  a  close,  and  the  royal  clemency  had  been  singularly  considerate 
of  the  mistaken  men  who  had  taken  arms  against  their  king,  he 
would  in  a  little  while  be  discharged  on  his  parole.”  This 
reluctant  and  forced  crumb  of  comfort  fell  before  one  who  had  but 
little  appetite  to  take  it,  and  Mildred  received  it  only  in  cold  silence. 
Henry,  however,  made  better  use  of  the  event,  and  by  that  assidu¬ 
ity  which,  in  true  and  gentle  friendships,  never  wearies,  and  never 
misses  its  aim,  when  that  aim  is  to  revive  a  sinking  hope,  succeeded 
in  lifting  both  his  father  and  sister  into  a  kindlier  climate  of 
feeling.  But  solitude  and  her  pillow  ravelled  all  this  work  of 
charity.  Fancy,  that  stirring  tormentor  of  acute  minds,  summoned 
up  all  its  phantoms  to  Mildred’s  waking  fears,  and  the  night  was 
passed  by  her  as  by  one  who  could  not  be  comforted.  In  the  morning 
she  was  ill,  and  therefore,  as  I  have  said,  remained  in  her  chamber. 

Lindsay,  ever  solicitous  for  the  happiness  of  his  children,  and 
keenly  sensitive  to  whatever  gave  them  pain,  now  that  the  turbid 
violence  of  his  passion  had  subsided  into  a  clearer  and  calmer 
medium,  applied  himself  by  every  art  which  parental  fondness  could 
supply,  to  mitigate  the  suffering  of  his  daughter.  Like  a  man  who, 
in  a  reckless  and  ungoverned  moment,  having  done  an  injury  which 
his  heart  revolts  at,  and  having  leisure  to  contemplate  the  wrong 
he  has  inflicted,  hastens  to  administer  comfort  with  an  alacrity 
which  even  outruns  the  suggestions  of  ordinary  aflection,  so  did  he 
now  betake  himself  to  Mildred’s  chamber,  and,  with  sentiments  of 
mixed  alarm  and  contrition,  seek  her  forgiveness  for  what  he 
acknowledged  a  rash  and  unbecoming  assault  upon  her  feelings. 

His  soothing  did  not  reach  the  disease.  They  could  give  her  no 
assurance  of  Butler’s  safety ;  and  on  that  point  alone  all  her 
anguish  turned.  “  My  dear,  dear  father,”  she  said,  with  a  feeble 
and  dejected  voice,  “  how  do  you  wrong  me,  by  supposing  I  could 
harbor  a  sentiment  that  might  cause  me  to  doubt  the  love  I  bear 
you !  I  know  and  revere  the  purity  of  your  nature,  and  need  no 
assurance  from  you  that  your  affection  itself  has  kindled  up  this 
warmth  of  temper.  But  you  have  opened  a  fountain  of  bitterness 
upon  my  feelings,”  she  added,  sobbing  vehemently,  “  in  what  you 
have  divulged  relating  to  a  man  you  loathe,  and  one,  dear  father 


390 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


— take  it  from  me  now,  as  the  expression  of  a  sacred  duty — one 
that  I  must  ever  love.  Call  it  fate — call  it  infatuation  ;  say  that  it 
does  not  befit  my  womanly  reserve  to  avow  it — but  if  misfortune 
and  death  have  fallen  upon  the  head  of  Arthur  Butler,  there  is 
that  bond  between  us,  that  I  must  die.  Oh,  father — ” 

As  Mildred  pronounced  these  words  she  had  gradually  raised 
herself  into  a  sitting  posture  in  her  bed,  and,  at  the  conclusion,  fell 
back  exhausted  upon  her  pillow.  The  enthusiasm,  the  violence 
and  the  intensity  of  her  emotions  had  overborne  her  strength,  and 
for  some  moments  she  lay  incapable  of  speech. 

“  Mildred,  Mildred  !  daughter !”  exclaimed  Lindsay,  in  alarm,  “  I 
forgive  you,  my  child.  Great  heaven,  if  this  should  be  too  much 
for  her  sensitive  nature,  and  she  should  die  before  my  eyes  !  Dear 
Mildred,”  he  said  in  a  softer  accent,  as  he  kissed  her  pale  forehead, 
“  but  look  up,  and  never,  never  more  will  I  oppose  your  wish.” 

“Father,”  she  uttered,  in  a  scarce  audible  whisper. 

“  Thank  God,  she  revives  !  Forbear  to  speak,  my  love ; 
that  is  enough.  Do  not  exhaust  your  strength  by  another 
efibrt.” 

“  Father  !”  she  repeated  in  a  firmer  accent. 

“  There,  there,  my  child,”  continued  Lindsay,  fanning  the  air 
before  her  face  with  his  hand. 

“  Father,”  again  uttered  Mildi'ed,  “  tell  me  of  Arthur.” 

“  He  is  safe,  my  love — and  thou  shalt  yet  be  happy.  Daughter 
— no  more  ;  compose  yourself — nor  attempt  again  to  speak.”  And 
saying  these  words,  Lindsay  stole  out  of  the  chamber  and  sum¬ 
moned  one  of  the  domestics  to  administer  a  cordial  to  the  ex¬ 
hausted  patient ;  and  then  gave  orders  that  she  should  be  left  to 
recruit  her  strength  by  sleep. 

Mildred  by  degi'ees  revived.  Jaded  by  mental  affliction,  she  had 
sunk  into  repose  ;  and  when  another  morning  arrived,  the  lustre 
had  returned  to  her  eye,  and  her  recovery  vvas  already  well  ad¬ 
vanced.  She  did  not  yet  venture  from  her  chamber,  but  she  was 
able  to  leave  her  bed  and  take  the  fresh  air  at  her  window. 

Whilst  she  sat  in  the  loose  robe  of  an  invalid,  towards  noon, 
looking  out  upon  the  green  forest  and  smiling  fields  around  her, 
■with  Henry  close  by  her  side,  seeking  to  soothe  and  amuse  her 
mind,  they  were  enabled  to  descry  a  horseman,  attended  by  a 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


391 


single  servant,  making  Lis  way  up  the  hill  from  the  ford,  by  the 
road  that  led  directly  to  the  door. 

“  As  I  live,  sister,”  ejaculated  Ilenry,  “  there  is  Tyrrel,  covered 
with  dust,  and  his  horse  all  but  worn  down  by  travel.” 

“  Heaven  forbid  that  it  should  be  Tyrrel  indeed  !”  said  Mildred, 
growing  paler,  and  trembling  as  she  spoke.  “  Oh,  what  ill  fortune 
brings  him  hither  ?”  • 

“  I’ll  be  bound,’’  replied  Henry,  “  that  he  comes  with  a  whole 
budget  of  lies  and  foul  thoughts.  He  has  a  knavish  look,  sister, 
and  has  been  hatching  mischief  with  every  step  of  his  horse.  I, 
for  one,  will  not  see  him  ;  unless  I  can’t  help  it.  And  you,  sister, 
have  an  excuse  to  keep  your  room :  so,  he  is  like  to  have  cold 
comfort  here,  with  his  rascally  news  of  victory.  We  shall  hear 
enough  of  Camden  now.  By-the-by,  sister,  I  should  like  much  to 
see  our  account  of  that  business.  I  would  bet  it  gives  another 
face  to  the  matter.  These  Tories  do  so  bespatter  his  lordship  with 
praises,  and  tell  such  improbable  things  about  their  victories !  I 
will  not  see  Tyrrel,  that’s  flat.” 

“  Nay,  brother,  not  so  fast.  You  must  see  him,  for  my  sake. 
He  has  something  to  tell  of  Arthur.  Persuade  my  father  to  ask 
him  :  tell  him,  if  need  be,  that  I  requested  this.  And,  Henry,  if 
he  says  that  Arthur  is  safe  and  well,  if  he  has  heard  anything  of 
him,  knows  anything  of  him,  fly  to  and  tell  me  it  all.  And,  remem¬ 
ber,  brother,”  she  said  earnestly,  “  tell  me  all — whether  it  be  good 
or  bad.” 

“  This  is  a  new  view  of  the  case,”  said  Henry.  “  Mildred,  you 
are  a  wise  woman,  and  think  more  ahead  than  I  do.  I  did  not 
reflect  that  this  fellow  might  know  something  of  Major  Butler, 
though  I  am  pretty  sure  he  kept  as  clear  of  the  major  as  a  clean 
pair  of  heels  w'ould  allow  him.  And,  moreover,  I  take  upon  me 
to  say,  that  he  will  bring  as  little  good  news  of  ourArthur  in  this  di¬ 
rection,  as  he  ever  did  of  a  good  act  in  his  life.  But  I  will  spy  him  out, 
sister,  and  report  like  a — like  a — forty-two  pounder,  or  the  dis¬ 
patch  of  a  general  w'ho  has  won  a  fight.  So,  adieu,  sister.” 

By  the  time  that  Henry  had  reached  the  porch,  Tyrrel  was 
already  there.  He  liad  dismounted,  and  his  weary  steed  stood 
panting  on  the  grave’  walk,  while  the  servant  stripped  him  of 
his  baggage. 


392 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Well  met,  good  master  Henry  !”  said  Tyn-el  approaching,  and 
offering  the  youth  his  hand,  “  I  am  somewhat  of  a  soiled  traveller, 
you  see.  Is  your  father  at  home  ?  And  your  sister,  how  is  she  ?” 

“  My  father  is  at  home,”  replied  Henry,  dropping  the  proffered 
hand  of  the  visitor,  almost  as  soon  as  it  had  touched  his  own.  “  I 
will  send  him  to  you,  sir.” 

“  But  you  have  not  asked  me  the  news,  Henry,”  said  Tyrrel, 
“  and,  seeing  that  I  have  come  from  the  very  theatre  of  Avar,  I 
could  tell  you  something  good.” 

“  I  have  heard  my  father  speak  of  your  good  news,”  answered 
Henry,  carelessly,  “  I  do  not  serve  under  the  same  colors  with 
you,  sir.” 

And  the  youth  left  the  porch  to  announce  the  arrival  of  the 
traveller  to  Lindsay. 

“  There  spoke  the  rebel  Mildred,”  muttered  Tyrrel,  as  Henry 
left  his  presence. 

In  an  instant,  Lindsay  hastened  from  the  library  and  received 
his  guest  with  a  warm  Avelcome. 

The  first  cares  of  his  reception,  and  some  necessary  order  re¬ 
lating  to  his  comfort,  being  despatched,  Tyrrel  began  to  disburden 
himself  of  his  stock  of  particulars  relating  to  the  great  and  impor¬ 
tant  movements  of  the  oj^posing  armies  in  the  south.  He  had 
left  Cornwallis  a  few  days  after  the  battle,  and  had  travelled  with 
post  haste  to  Virginia,  on  a  leave  of  absence.  He  described  mi¬ 
nutely  the  state  of  things  consequent  upon  the  recent  victory  ;  and  it 
was  with  a  tone  of  triumphant  exultation  that  he  frequently 
appealed  to  his  predictions  as  to  the  course  of  events,  when  last  at 
the  Dove  Cote.  The  convei’sation  soon  became  too  confidential 
for  the  presence  even  of  Henry,  Avho  sat  gi-eedily  deA'ouring  every 
word  that  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  narrator,  and  the  further  inter¬ 
view  was  transferred  to  the  library. 

Henry  hastened  back  to  Mildred. 

“  The  fellow  is  so  full  of  politics,  sister,”  said  the  eager  scout, 
“  that  he  has  not  dropped  one  solitary  word  about  Butler.  He 
talks  of  the  province  being  brought  back  to  a  sense  of  its  duty, 
and  public  sentiment  putting  an  end  to  this  unnatural  war  forsooth  ! 
And  his  majesty  reaping  fresh  laurels  on  the  fields  of  Virginia ! 
Let  his  majesty  put  in  his  sickle  here — he  shall  reap  as  fine  a 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


393 


crop  of  briers  to  bind  round  his  brow,  as  ever  grew  m  a  fence- 
corner  !  But  Butler !  Oh,  no,  he  has  nothing  to  say  of  Butler. 
He  is  a  cunning  man,  sister,  and  keeps  out  of  the  major’s  way, 
take  my  word  for  that.” 

“  Brother,  get  you  again  to  my  father,  and  say  to  him  that  I 
desire  to  know  what  tidings  Mr.  Tyrrel  brings  us.  Say  it  in  his 
ear  privately,  Henry.” 

The  young  emissary  again  took  his  leave,  and,  without  apology, 
entered  the  library. 

Mildred,  in  the  meantime,  restless  and  impatient,  applied  herself 
to  the  duties  of  the  toilet,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  her  maid, 
was  soon  in  a  condition  to  leave  her  chamber.  She  had,  almost 
unwittingly,  and  in  obedience  to  her  engrossing  wish  to  know 
something  of  Butler,  made  these  preparations  to  appear  in  the 
parlor,  without  thinking  of  her  repugnance  to  meet  Tyrrel.  And 
now,  when  she  was  on  the  point  of  going  forth,  her  resolve  chang¬ 
ed,  and  she  moved  through  the  chamber  like  a  perturbed  spirt, 
anxiously  waiting  the  return  of  Henry.  She  walked  to  the  win¬ 
dow,  whence,  looking  out  towards  the  terrace  she  perceived  that 
her  father  and  his  guest  had  strolled  out  upon  the  lawn,  where  they 
were  moving  forward  at  a  slow  pace,  whilst  their  gesticulations 
showed  that  they  were  engaged  in  an  earnest  conference. 

Henry’s  footsteps  at  the  same  moment  were  heard  traversing 
the  long  passage,  and  Mildred,  no  longer  able  to  restrain  her 
eagerness,  hastily  left  her  room  and  met  her  brother,  with  whom 
she  returned  to  the  parlor. 

“  My  news,  upon  the  whole,  is  good,”  said  Henry,  as  he  put  his 
arm  round  INIildred’s  waist.  “  AVhen  I  entered  the  library,  and  took 
a  seat  by  ray  father,  he  suddenly  broke  up  some  long  talk  that 
■was  going  on,  in  which  he  looked  very  grave,  and,  as  if  he  knew 
what  I  came  for — he  is  an  excellent,  kind  father,  sister,  for  all  his 
moping  and  sad  humors,  and  loves  botli  you  and  me.” 

“  He  does,  Henry,  and  we  must  never  forget  it.” 

“  1  would  fight  for  him  to  the  very  death,  Mildred.  So,  seeing 
that  I  looked  as  if  you  had  sent  me  to  him,  he  turned,  in  a  kind 
of  careless  way,  and  asked  Tyrrel  if  he  had  heard  anything  lately 
of  Butler.” 

“  Well — brother.” 


16*  ■ 


394 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


“  ‘  I  scarce  tlioiight  to  mention  it,  answered  Tyrrel,  ‘  but  the 
man’ — think  of  that  way  of  speaking  of  Major  Butler — ‘the  man 
had  the  temerity  to  push  himself  amongst  the  loyal  troops,  and 
was  made  a  prisoner ;  he  was  suspected  to  be  a  spy,  and  there  was, 

I  have  understood,  an  idea  of  trying  him  by  court-martial  for 
it,  and  for  other  misdemeanors,  of  which  I  wrote  you  some  par¬ 
ticulars.  I  believe  indeed,  he  was  tried,  and  would,  perhaps,  have 
been  shot.” 

“  Oh,  heaven !  brother,  can  this  be  true  ?”  exclaimed  Mildred, 
as  the  color  deserted  her  cheek. 

“  I  give  you  exactly  Tyrrel’s  words,”  replied  Henry,  “  but  the 
court  were  attacked,  said  he,  by  some  bands  of  Whigs  who  stole  a 
march  upon  them.” 

“  And  Ai'thur  escaped  ?  Kind  heaven,  I  thank  thee  !”  almost 
screamed  Mildred,  as  she  clasped  her  hands  together. 

“  So  Tyrrel  thinks,”  continued  Henry.  “  At  all  events  they  did 
Rot  shoot  him,  like  a  pack  of  cowardly  knaves  as  they  were.  And 
•'  as  some  Tory  prisoners  were  taken  and  dragged  away  by  our 
V  good  friend  General  Sumpter,  who  was  the  man,  Tyrrel  says,  that 
set  upon  them,  it  is  considered  good  policy — these  were  his  words, 
sister — to  spare  the  unnecessary  effusion  of  blood  on  both  sides. 
And  then  my  father  asked  Tyn-el  if  Cornwallis  knew  of  these 
doings,  and  he  answered,  not — that  it  was  the  indiscreet  act  of  some 
mountain  boys,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  burning  and  slaying, 
against  the  wish  of  his  Lordship  :  that  the  regular  officers  disap¬ 
prove  of  harsh  measures,  and  that  peace  now  reigns  all  through 
the  province.” 

“  When  they  make  a  desert  of  the  land,  they  call  it  peace,”  said 
Mildred  thoughtfully,  quoting  a  translation  of  the  beautiful  passage 
of  Tacitus.  “  This  war  is  a  dreadful  trade.” 

“  For  us,  sister,  who  stay  at  home,”  replied  Henry.  “But  God 
is  good  to  us,  and  will  favor  the  right,  and  will  protect  the  brave 
men  who  draw  their  swords  to  maintain  it.” 

“  From  treachery,  ambuscade,  and  privy  murder — I  thank  you, 
brother,  for  that  word.  Heaven  shield  us,  and  those  we  love ! 
But  these  are  fearful  times.” 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


r 


CIRCUMSTANCES  FAVOR  TYRREl’s  INFLUENCE  OVER  LINDSAY. 

The  discourse  betwen  Lindsay  and  Tyrrel  was  one  of  deep  moment. 
T3UTel  had  taken  advantage  of  the  pervading  fervor  which  the  late 
successes  of  the  British  arms  had  diffused  amongst  the  adherents 
of  the  royal  cause,  in  behalf  of  what  was  deemed  their  certain  tri¬ 
umph,  to  urge  forward  his  own  views.  This  was  the  occasion  of 
his  present  unexpected  visit  at  the  Dove  Cote.  His  immediate  aim 
was  to  plunge  Lindsay  into  the  contest,  by  forcing  him  to  take 
some  step  that  should  so  commit  him,  in  the  opinion  of  the  repub¬ 
lican  government,  as  to  leave  him  no  chance  of  retreat,  nor  the 
means  longer  to  enjoy  the  privileges  of  his  late  neutrality.  He, 
unhappily,  found  Lindsay  in  a  mood  to  favor  this  intrigue.  The 
increasing  anxieties  of  that  gentleman’s  mind,  his  domestic  gi’iefs, 
his  peculiar  temperament,  and  the  warmth  of  his  political  animosi¬ 
ties,  all  stimulated  him  to  the  thought  of  some  active  participation 
in  the  struggle.  Tyrrel  had  sulEcient  penetration  to  perceive  that 
such  was  likely  to  be  the  current  of  Lindsay’s  feelings,  and  he  had 
by  frequent  letters  administered  to  this  result. 

There  were  several  opulent  families  in  the  lower  sections  of  the 
state,  who  still  clung  to  the  cause  of  the  Ixing,  and  who  had  been 
patiently  awaiting  the  course  of  events,  for  the  time  when  they 
might  more  boldly  avow  themselves.  AVith  the  heads  of  these 
families  Tyrrel  had  been  in  active  correspondence,  and  it  was  now 
his  design  which  under  the  sanction  of  the  British  leaders,  he  had 
already  nearly  matured,  to  bring  these  individuals  together  into  a 
secret  council,  that  they  might  act  in  concert,  and  strengthen  them¬ 
selves  by  mutual  alliance.  Immediately  after  the  battle  of  Camden,  it 
is  known  that  Cornwallis  had  laid  his  plans  for  the  invasion  of  North 
Carolina,  by  intrigues  of  the  same  kind :  it  was  only  extending  the 
system  a  little  in  advance  to  apply  it  to  A^irginia.  Arrangements 

305 


396 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


had  been  made  for  this  meeting  of  malcontents  to  be  held  at  the 
house  of  a  Mr.  Stanhope,  on  one  of  the  lower  sections  of  the 
James  river — a  gentleman  of  good  repute,  with  whom  Lindsay  had 
long  been  in  the  relations  of  close  friendship. 

“The  moments  are  precious,  and  you  are  waited  for,”  said 
Tyrrel,  in  the  course  of  his  conference  with  Lindsay  ;  “we  must 
strilie  whilst  the  iron  is  hot.  Separated  as  our  good  friends  are 
from  each  other,  you  are  now  in  the  power,  and  at  the  mercy — 
which  is  a  significant  phrase — of  the  unruly  government  of  Con¬ 
gress.  Yom’  motions,  therefore,  should  be  prompt.  There  are 
seasons,  in  the  history  of  every  trouble,  when  the  virtue  of  delibera¬ 
tion  mainly  lies  in  its  rapidity  and  the  boldness  of  its  resolve.  I 
beseech  you,  sir,  to  regard  this  as  such  a  season,  and  to  take  the 
course  which  the  honor  of  our  sovereign  demands,  without  further 
pause  to  think  of  consequences.” 

“  When  you  were  here  a  month  ago,”  replied  Lindsay,  “  I  had 
my  scruples.  But  things  have  strangely  altered  in  that  short 
interval.  Your  standard  floats  more  bravely  over  the  path  of 
invasion  than  I  had  deemed  it  possible.  You  charged  me  then 
with  being  a  laggard,  and,  you  may  remember,  even  impeached 
my  loyalty.” 

“  I  did  you  a  grievous  wrong,  my  dear  friend ;  and  did  I  not 
know  your  generous  nature  pardoned,  as  soon  as  it  was  uttered, 
my  rash  and  intemperate  speech,  it  would  have  cost  me  mstny  a 
pang  of  remorse.  Even  in  this,  good  sir,”  said  Tyrrel,  smiling 
and  laying  his  hand  upon  Lindsay’s  shoulder  ;  “  even  in  this,  you 
see  how  necessary  is  it  that  we  should  have  a  wise  and  considerate 
councillor  to  moderate  the  ungoverned  zeal  of  us  younger  men.” 

“  My  mind  is  made  up,”  replied  Lindsay.  “  I  will  attend  the 
meeting.” 

“  And  Mildred  will  be  removed  forthwith  to  Charleston  ?” 
eagerly  interrupted  Tyrrel. 

“  Ah,  sir,  not  one  word  of  that.  If  I  attend  this  meeting,  it  must 
be  in  secret.  Nor  do  I  yet  commit  myself  to  its  resolves.  I  shall  be 
a  listener  only.  I  would  learn  what  my  compatriots  think,  reserv¬ 
ing  to  myself  the  right  to  act.  Even  yet,  I  would  purchase  peace 
with  many  a  sacrifice.  I  abjure  all  violent  measures  of  oflrence.” 

“  I  am  content,”  answered  Tyrrel,  “  that  you  should  hold  your- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


397 


oelf  unpledged  to  any  measures  which  your  gravest  and  severest 
judgment  does  not  approve.  Though  I  little  doubt  that,  from  all 
quarters,  you  will  hear  such  tidings  as  shall  convince  you  that  the 
road,  both  of  safety  and  honor,  leads  onward  in  this  glorious  enter¬ 
prise.  ’Tis  from  this  nettle  danger,  that  we  pluck  the  flower 
‘  safety.’  Conscious  of  this,  I  would  have  Mildred  and  her  brother 
cared  for.” 

“  Mildred  can  never  be  yours,”  said  Lindsay  musing.  “  There 
is  the  thought  that  makes  me  pause.  I  believed,  and  so  do  you, 
that  the  favor  this  Butler  had  found  with  her  was  the  capricious 
and  changeful  fancy  of  a  girl.  It  is  the  devoted  passion  of  a 
woman  :  it  has  grown  to  be  her  faith,  her  honor,  her  religion.” 

“  Butler  is  a  fool — a  doomed  madman,”  replied  Tyrrel  with 
earnestness.  “  He  came  here  with  the  hellish  purpose  to  betray 
you ;  and  he  was  silly  enough  to  think  he  could  do  so,  and  still 
win  your  daughter.  She  should  be  told  of  this.” 

“  She  has  been  told  of  it,  and  she  believes  it  not.” 

“  Was  my  avouch  given  to  her  for  the  truth  of  the  fact.” 

“  It  was.  And,  to  speak  plainly  to  you,  it  has  only  made  your 
name  hateful  to  her  ear.” 

“  Then  shall  she  have  proof  of  it,  which  she  cannot  doubt.  She 
shall  have  it  in  the  recorded  judgment  of  a  court-martial,  which 
has  condemned  him  as  a  traitor  and  a  spy ;  she  shall  have  it  in 
the  doom  of  his  death,  and  the  sequestration  of  his  estate,” 
exclaimed  Tyrrel  with  a  bitter  malignity,  “  proud  girl !” 

“  Remember  yourself,  sir  !”  interrupted  Lindsay,  sternly.  “  This 
is  not  the  language  nor  the  tone  fit  for  a  father’s  ear,  when  the 
subject  of  it  is  his  own  daughter.” 

Tyrrel  was  instantly  recalled  to  his  self-possession ;  and  with 
that  humility  which  he  could  always  assume  when  his  own  interest 
required  it,  spoke  in  a  voice  of  sudden  contrition. 

“  Why,  what  a  fool  am  I  to  let  my  temper  thus  sway  me ! 
Humbly,  most  humbly,  dear  sir,  do  I  entreat  your  forgiveness.  I 
love  your  daughter,  and  revere  the  earnest  enthusiasm  of  her 
nature;  and,  therefore,  have  been  galled  beyond  my  proper  show 
of  duty,  to  learn  that  she  could  discredit  my  word.” 

“  I  enjoin  it  upon  you,”  said  Lindsay,  “  that  in  your  intercourse 
with  my  family  here,  you  drop  no  word  calculated  to  alarm  ray 


398 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


daughter  for  the  safety  of  this  Butler.  It  is  a  topic  which  dis¬ 
tracts  her,  and  must  be  avoided.” 

“  For  the  present,”  replied  Tyrrel,  “  as  I  have  before  told  you,  I 
think  he  is  safe.  The  forfeiture  of  his  estate  is  not  a  secret.  But 
to  business,  my  friend.  When  shall  we  set  out  ?” 

“  To-morrow,”  answered  Lindsay.  “  We  must  travel  cautiously, 
and  amongst  our  friends.” 

“  This  disguise  has  served  me  so  far,”  said  Tyi-rel.  “  I  may  the 
better  trust  to  it  when  in  your  company.” 

Mildred  and  Henry  remained  in  the  parlor,  and  were  there 
when  Lindsay  and  his  guest,  having  terminated  their  secret  con¬ 
ference,  returned  to  the  house. 

“  Your  cheek  denies  your  customary  boast  of  good  health.  Miss 
Linds.ay,”  said  Tyrrel,  respectfully  approaching  the  lady,  and  with 
an  air  that  seemed  to  indicate  his  expectation  of  a  cold  reception. 
“It  grieves  me  to  learn  that,  at  a  time  when  all  good  men  are 
rejoicing  in  the  prospect  of  peace,  you  should  not  be  in  a  condi¬ 
tion  to  share  the  common  pleasure.” 

“I  think  there  is  small  occasion  for  rejoicing  in  any  quarter,” 
replied  Mildred,  calmly. 

“  Miss  Lindsay  would,  perhaps,  be  interested  to  hear,”  said 
Tyn'el,  not  discomfited  by  the  evident  aversion  of  the  lady,  “that 
I  have,  within  a  few  days  past,  left  the  head-quarters  of  the  British 
army,  where  I  was  enabled  to  glean  some  particulars  of  a  friend 
of  hers,  Major  Butler,  of  the  Continental  service.” 

Mildred  colored,  as  she  said  in  a  faint  voice,  “  He  is  my  friend.” 

“  He  has  been  unfortunate,”  continued  Tyrrel,  “  having  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  some  of  our  skirmishers.  But  I  believe  I  may 
assure  Miss  Lindsay  that  he  is  both  safe  and  well.  He  enjoys 
the  reputation  of  being  a  brave  gentleman.  I  may  be  permitted 
to  say,  that  had  his  destiny  brought  him  under  other  colors,  I 
should  have  been  proud  to  be  better  known  to  him.” 

“  Major  Butler  chooses  his  own  colors,”  said  Henry,  interposing. 
“  I  don’t  think  destiny  had  much  to  do  with  it.  He  took  his  side 
because  they  wanted  men  to  help  out  a  brave  war.” 

Lindsay  frowned,  and  strode  once  or  twice  across  the  apartment, 
during  which  an  embarrassing  silence  prevailed. 

“  You  are  the  same  cockerel  you  always  were,  Henry,”  said 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


399 


Tyn-el,  with  undaunted  playfulness ;  “  always  warm  for  the  fight. 
But  it  is  a  Christian  duty,  you  know,  to  be  peace-makers  in  such 
times  as  these.  We  may  trust.  Miss  Lindsay,  that  some  concilia¬ 
tory  spirit  shall  arise  to  quell  the  quarrelsome  humors  of  the 
people,  and  bring  all  things  back  to  tranquillity.  For  myself,  I 
devoutly  wish  it.  ’ 

“  The  day  for  such  a  spirit  does  not  seem  to  be  at  hand,”  said 
Mildred,  quietly  rising  to  withdraw. 

“  You  are  not  well,  my  daughter,”  interposed  Lindsay.  “  Mil- . 
dred  is  hut  recently  from  a  sick  bed,”  he*  continued,  addressing 
Tyrrel,  in  the  way  of  apology  for  her  marked  coldness  of  demea¬ 
nor. 

“  T  am  not  well,  father,”  replied  Mildred,  “  I  must  he  permitted 
to  leave  you  ;”  and  she  now  retired. 

When  Henry  soon  afterwards  joined  her,  he  found  her  agitated 
and  excited. 

“  Better  known  to  Arthur  Butler  !”  she  exclaimed,  dwelling  on 
the  speech  of  Tyrrel.  “He  is  better  known  already  than  he  dreams 
of.  Think,  brother,  of  the  cool  hypocrisy  of  this  hold  schemer — 
this  secret  disturber  of  the  quiet  of  our  house — that  he  should 
dare  boast  to  me  of  Arthur’s  bravery.” 

“  And  to  talk  about  his  colors  too  !”  said  Henry.  “  Did  you 
mark,  sister,  how  I  set  him  down — in  spite  of  mir  father’s  presence  ? 
And  did  you  see  how  his  brow  blanched  when  I  spoke  my  mind 
to  him  ?  He  will  find  me  too  hot  a  cockerel,  as  he  calls  me,  to 
venture  upon  our  colors  again.  I  hold  no  terms  with  him,  sister, 
more  than  yourself.” 

“  You  will  excuse  me  to  my  father,  Henry,  I  will  not  go  in  to 
dinner  to-day.” 

“  I  wondered,”  replied  Henry,  “  that  you  met  him  at  all,  sister  ; 
but  he  took  us  unawares.  And,  truly,  I  don’t  think  it  would  be 
safe  to  bring  you  near  him  again.  So  I  advise  you,  keep  your 
room.  As  for  me — tut !  I  am  not  afraid  to  meet  him.  I  warrant 
he  gets  his  own  upon  occasion  !” 

“  I  entreat  you,  Henry,”  said  Mildred,  “  to  guard  your  temper. 
It  would  give  our  father  pain  to  hear  a  rash  speech  from  you. 
It  would  answer  no  good  end.” 


400 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  I  will  be  as  circumspect,  Mildred,  as  tbe  state  of  tbe  war  re- 
qiiii-es,”  answered  Henry.  “  Fight  when  it  is  necessary,  and  be 
silent  when  we  can’t  strike.” 

Henry  now  left  his  sister  and  went  to  his  usual  opcupations. 

Mildred,  in  accordance  with  the  purpose  expressed  to  her  brother, 
did  not  appear  at  the  dinner  table ;  and  the  day  was  passed,  by 
Lindsay  and  Tyrrel,  in  close  communion  over  the  topics  connected 
with  the  object  of  the  enterprise  in  which  they  were  about  to  em¬ 
bark.  Tyrrel  had  seen  enongh  to  convince  him  that  he  might,  at 
least  for  the  present,  abandon  all  effort  to  win  Mildred’s  good 
opinion ;  and  his  whole  thoughts  were  now  bent  to  bring  Lindsay 
into  such  an  attitude  of  hostility  to  the  republican  authorities  as 
would  inevitably  lead  to  his  removal  from  the  state,  and  perhaps 
compel  him  to  retire  to  England.  Either  of  these  events  would 
operate  to  the  advantage  of  the  aspiring  and  selfish  policy  by  which 
Tyi’rel  hoped  to  accomplish  his  object. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  Lindsay  held  a  short  interview  with 
his  children,  in  which  he  made  known  to  them  that  affairs  of  im¬ 
portance  were  about  to  call  him  away,  for  a  fortnight  perhaps,  from 
the  Dove  Cote.  It  was  in  vain  that  Mildred  endeavored  to  turn 
him  from  his  purpose,  which,  though  undivulged  to  her,  she  con¬ 
jectured  to  be,  from  its  association  with  Tyrrel,  some  sinister  poli¬ 
tical  move,  of  which  her  father  was  to  be  the  dupe. 

In  accordance  with  Lindsay’s  intimation,  he  and  Tyrrel  set  ont, 
at  an  early  hour  of  the  following  day,  on  their  journey  towards  the 
low  country. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


A  DOMESTIC  SCENE  AT  THE  DOVE  COTE. 

On  the  third  morning  following  Lindsay’s  and  Tyrrel’s  departure, 
the  season  being  now  about  the  commencement  of  Septembei, 
Henry  was  seen,  after  an  unusually  early  breakfast,  to  come  forth 
upon  the  grass-plot,  in  front  of  the  house,  bearing  in  his  hand  a 
short  rifle, — his  customary  accompaniment  of  the  bugle  being 
slung  across  his  shoulders.  For  some  moments  he  was  occupied  in 
examining  his  weapon ;  then  leaning  it  against  a  tree  that  stood 
upon  the  lawn,  he  put  the  bugle  to  his  mouth  and  sounded  a  long 
and  clear  signal-note.  The  first  effects  of  this  spell  Avere  to  bring 
up  Bell,  Blanch,  and  Hylas,  the  three  flap-eared  hounds,  ivho  came 
frisking  over  the  grass  with  many  antics  that  might  be  said  to 
resemble  the  bows  and  curtsies  of  the  human  species,  and  Avhich 
were  accompanied  by  the  houndish  salutation  of  deep-mouthed 
howls  that  the  horn  never  fails  to  wake  up  in  these  animals. 

Soon  after  these,  came  striding  up  the  hill  the  long  gaunt  form 
of  Stephen  Foster,  Avho,  mounting  the  stone  Avail  on  the  lower  side, 
with  one  bound  sprang  over  the  thickset-hedge  that  begirt  the 
terrace.  He  Avas  now  arrayed  in  a  yelloAV  hunting  shirt  that 
reached  to  the  middle  of  his  thigh,  and  AA'hich  was  decorated  Avith 
an  abundance  of  red  fringe  that  bound  the  cape,  elbows,  Avrists,  and 
extremity  of  the  skirt,  and  a  avooI  hat  encircled  with  a  broad  red 
band,  in  one  side  of  which  Avas  set  the  national  ornament  of  the  buck- 
tail.  Around  his  Avaist  Avas  buckled  a  broad  buckskin  belt ;  he  Avas 
armed  besides  with  a  rifle  a  little  short  of  six  feet  in  length. 

Stephen  Foster  was  one  of  that  idle  craft,  Avho, having  no  par¬ 
ticular  occupation,  Avas  from  this  circumstance,  by  a  contradictioi^ 
in  tenns,  usually  called  a  man  of  all  Avork.  He  belonged  to  that 
class  of  beings  who  are  only  to  be  found  in  a  society  where  the 
ordinary  menial  employments  are  discharged  by  slaves ;  and  was 

40) 


402 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


the  tenant  of  a  few  acres  of  land,  ajipertaining  to  the  domain  of 
the  Dove  Cote,  where  he  professed  to  make  his  li^'ing  by  husbandry. 
But  by  far  the  greater  proportion  of  his  revenues  was  derived  from 
divers  miscellaneous  services, — such  as  driving  a  team  of  four  lean 
horses,  of  which  he  was  proprietor  ;  hauling  wood  for  fuel ;  assist¬ 
ing  in  the  harvest  fields;  somtimes  working  in  the  garden;  and, 
when  required,  riding  errands — which  he  preferred  to  all  other 
business.  But  labor  was  not  Stephen’s  forte :  it  was  constitution¬ 
ally  a  part  of  his  system  to  postpone  matters  of  work  for  pleasure  ; 
and,  if  there  was  anything  for  which  he  was  particularly  famous,  it  was 
in  avoiding  all  appearances  of  punctuality  to  u-ksome  engagements. 
If  he  can  be  said  to  have  had  a  calling  at  all,  it  was  that  of  a  hunter, 
a  species  of  employment  that  possessed  a  wonderful  charm  for  his 
fanc)^  and  which  was  excellently  adapted  both  to  his  physical  and 
moral  qualities.  He,  therefore,  gave  much  of  his  time  to  the  con¬ 
cerns  of  vert  and  venison  ;  and  his  skill  with  the  rifle  was  such  that 
he  could  make  sure  of  putting  a  ball  through  the  brain  of  a  wild 
pigeon  as  far  as  he  was  able  to  draw  a  sight.  He  was  skilled  in 
the  habits  of  all  the  forest  animals  common  to  this  part  of  Virginia, 
and  accurately  drew  the  line  of  distinction  between  vermin  and 
game.  He  hunted  wolves,  bears,  panthers  (painters,  in  his  own 
pronunciation),  racoons,  foxes,  opossums,  and  squirrels  ;  and 
trapped  otter,  beaver,  and  muskrats  ;  moreover,  he  was  an  expert 
jigger  and  bobber  of  eels,  and  well  knew  the  trouting  streams. 
For  these  pursuits  he  was  endowed  with  a  patient  nature  that 
could  endure  a  whole  day  and  night  in  the  woods  without  eating  or 
sleeping  ;  my  authority  says  nothing  of  his  forbearance  in  the  third 
primary  want  of  humanity.  He  was  a  man  of  fine  thews  and  sinews, 
stout  and  brave ;  and  withal  of  a  generous,  frank,  and  invariable 
good  nature.  The  war  had  furnished  occasion  for  such  talents  as 
he  possessed ;  and  Stephen  was  now  meditating  a  bold  severance 
from  his  wife  and  children,  who  had  heretofore  exerted  such  a 
dominion  over  his  affections,  that  he  had  not  the  heart  to  leave 
them.  But  the  iiresent  difficulties  of  the  nation  had  made  such  a 
cogent  appeal  to  his  patriotism,  that  he  had  resolved  to  take  one 
campaign  in  the  field,  and  thus  give  scope  to  his  natural  love  of 
adventure.  It  was  now  his  peculiar  glory,  and  one  that  wrought  vrith 
a  potent  influence  upon  his  self  love,  that  he  held  the  post  of  lieute- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


403 


iiaiit  to  the  company  of  Amherst  Rangers,  a  volunteer  corps  that  had 
lately  been  organized  with  a  view  to  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  south. 

This  worthy,  when  he  had  no  expedition  in  hand,  was  generally 
to  he  found  lounging  about  the  mansion  of  the  Dove  Cote,  in 
expectation  of  some  call  from  Henry,  between  whom  and  himself 
there  existed  a  mutual  and  somewhat  exorbitant  affection. 

On  his  present  appearance  there  was  a  broad,  complacent  grin 
on  Stephen’s  features  as  he  accosted  the  young  bugleman  with  the 
interrogatory — 

“  What’s  in  the  wind  now,  Mister  Henry?  Arter  another  buck, 
I  reckon  ?  And  an  elegant  morning  it  is  for  a  drive  !  May  be, 
the  wind’s  just  a  little  too  fresh,  ’cepting  you  was  able  to  steal  on 
the  lower  side  of  the  gajne,  and  then  the  scent  would  come  do^vn 
like  a  rose.  Thar’s  a  great  advantage  in  being  down  the  wind, 
because  the  animal  can’t  hear  you  breaking  through  the  bushes, 
for  the  wind  makes  naturally  such  a  twittering  of  the  leaves  that 
it  deceives  him,  you  see.” 

“  I  fancy  I  know  a  good  hunting  day.  Lieutenant  Foster,”  said 
Henry,  putting  his  arms  akimbo,  “  as  well  as  you.  Who  told  you 
I  was  going  after  a  buck  ?  Why,  man,  if  that  had  been  my  drift 
I  should  have  started  you  two  hours  ago.  But  we  have  other 
business  in  hand,  Stephen.  There  is  such  dreadful  news  in  the 
country !  We  shall  march  soon,  take  my  word  for  it.  I  am 
resolved  to  go,  Stephen,  as  soon  as  ever  the  Rangers  set  out,  let  my 
father  say  what  he  will.  It  is  time  men  should  take  their  sides — 
that’s  my  opinion.” 

“  Mister  Henry,  I  wouldn’t  advise  you,”  said  Stephen,  with  a 
wise  shake  of  the  head.  “Your  father  would  grieve  himself  to 
death  if  you  were  to  leave  him.” 

“  Don’t  believe  the  half  of  that,  lieutenant.  There  would  be  a 
flurry  for  a  little  while,  and,  after  that,  father  would  see  that  the 
thing  couldn’t  be  helped,  and  so  he  would  have  to  be  satisfied.  I’ll 
steal  away — that’s  flat.” 

“Well,  take  notice.  Mister  Henry,”  said  Stephen,  chuckling,  “  I 
give  you  my  warning  against  it.  But  if  you  do  go  along  with  me 
I’ll  take  as  much  care  of  you  as  if  you  were  my  own  son.” 

“  I  know  sister  Mildred  thinks,”  replied  Henry,  “  it  wouldn’t  be 
very  wrong  in  me  to  go ;  and  so  I’ll  leave  her  to  make  my  peace 


404 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


at  liome.  Besides,  I  am  going  on  lier  account,  just  to  try  and  hear 
something  of  Major  Butler.” 

“  If  that’s  her  opinion,”  returned  Stephen,  “  thar  isn’t  much 
wrong  about  it.  She  is  the  head  contriver  and  main  privy- 
councillor,”  added  Stephen,  laughing,  as  he  used  these  slang  -words, 
■with  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  garnishing  his  conversation, 
“  of  all  matters  that  are  done  here  in  this  house.” 

“  These  are  your  new  regimentals,  Stephen,!’  said  Henry,  looking 
at  Foster’s  dress ;  “  you  shine  like  a  flecker  on  a  sunny  day.  It  will 
please  sister  to  the  life  to  see  you  so  spruce ;  she’s  a  prodigious 
disciplinarian,  and  doesn’t  like  to  see  us  rebels  (here  he  put  his 
hand  to  his  mouth  and  pronounced  this  word  with  a  mock 
circumspection),  worse  dressed  than  the  rascally  red-coats.  When 
do  the  Bangers  march,  Stephen  ?” 

“We  are  waiting  for  orders  every  day.  We  parade,  you  know, 
Mister  Henry,  this  morning.” 

“  You  must  plead  off  to-day,”  said  Henry ;  “  I  called  you  up  to 
tell  you  that  sister  and  I  were  going  to  ride,  and  I  wanted  you  to 
go  with  us.  At  any  rate,  if  you  must  go  to  the  troop,  you  can 
leave  us  on  the  road.  You  don’t  meet  till  twelve,  and  both  sister 
and  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  She  commanded  me  to  tell  you  this. 
I  believe  she  wishes  you  to  take  a  letter  for  her.  Poor  Mildred 
doesn’t  know  that  I  am  going  with  you ;  so,  as  to  that,  you  needn’t 
let  on.  Go,  Stephen,  have  our  horses  ready  as  soon  as  you  can  get 
them.  Quick,  good  Stephen ;  sister  and  I  will  wait  for  you  on  the 
lawn.” 

The  lieutenant  of  the  Bangers,  having  received  his  orders, 
hun’ied  away  to  attend  to  their  execution. 

Mildred  was  already  apparelled  for  her  ride,  and  came  at  this 
moment  from  the  house  along  the  gravel  walk.  Her  cheek,  lately 
pale,  had  now  begun  to  show  the  ruddy  hue  of  health.  Her  full, 
dark-blue  eye,  although  habitually  expressive  of  a  thoughtful 
temperament,  frequently  sparkled  with  the  sudden  flashes  of  a 
playful  spirit,  and  oftener  with  the  fire  of  an  ardent  resolution. 
Her  features,  marked  by  a  well-defined  outline,  bore  a  strong 
resemblance  to  her  brother’s,  and,  when  animated  by  the  quick¬ 
speeding  emotions  of  her  mind,  presented  a  countenance  unusually 
gifted  with  the  gi-aces  of  external  beauty.  The  impression  wliich 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


405 


her  physiognomy  conveyed,  was  that  of  an  impassioned  and  enthu¬ 
siastic  nature,  and  of  a  feminine  courage  that  was  sufficient  for  anV 
emergency.  A  clear  skin  gave  brilliancy  to  her  complexion  ;  and, 
although  habits  of  exposure  to  the  air  had  slightly  impaired  its 
lustre,  the  few  traces  which  this  exposure  left,  rather  communicated 
the  agreeable  idea  of  a  wholesome  and  vigorous  constitution.  The 
tones  of  her  voice  were  soft  and  gentle,  and  full  of  harmony ;  and, 
when  stimulated  by  her  feelings,  rich,  deep,  and  commanding. 
Her  figure,  of  what  might  be  deemed  a  medium  height  in  females, 
was  neat  and  agile,  well  proportioned,  and  combining  the  flexible 
ease  proper  to  her  sex,  with  a  degree  of  steadiness  and  strength 
that  might  be  denominated  masculine.  Her  movement  was  grace¬ 
ful,  distinguished  by  a  ready  hand  and  free  step ;  and  it  was  im¬ 
possible  to  look  upon  her  most  familiar  bearing,  ivithout  being 
struck  by  the  indication  which  it  gave  of  a  self-possessed,  fearless, 
and  careering  temper,  allied  to  a  mind  raised  above  the  multitude 
by  a  consciousness  of  intellectual  force. 

As  Mildred  advanced  along  the  shaded  walk,  she  was  followed 
by  a  fantastical  little  attendant,  whom,  in  the  toyish  freak  of  a 
solitary  and  luxurious  life,  she  had  trained  to  fill  the  station  of  a 
lady’s  page.  This  was  a  diminutive  negro  boy,  not  above  ten 
years  of  age,  of  a  delicate  figure,  and  now  gaudily  bedecked  in  a 
vest  of  scarlet  cloth,  a  pair  of  loose  white  linen  trowsers  drawn  at 
the  ancle,  and  red  slippers.  A  ruffle  fell  over  his  neck,  and  full 
white  sleeves  were  fastened  with  silken  cords  at  his  wrists.  A 
scarlet  velvet  cap  gave  a  finish  to  the  apparel  of  this  gorgeous 
little  elf ;  and  the  dress,  grotesque  as  it  was,  was  not  badly  set  off 
by  the  saucy,  familiar  port  of  the  conceited  menial.  Whether  he 
had  been  destined  from  his  birth  to  this  pampered  station, — or, 
accidentally,  like  many  of  the  eastern  monarchs,  raised  to  the  pur¬ 
ple, — he  bore  the  romantic  name  of  Endymion,  and  was  fully  as 
much  at  the  call  of  his  patroness,  and  as  fond  of  sleep,  as  him  of 
Mount  Latmos.  His  business  seemed  to  be  at  the  present  moment 
to  acquit  himself  of  the  responsible  duty  of  holding  an  ivory- 
mounted  riding-whip  in  readiness  for  the  service  of  his  mistress. 

When  Mildred  had  crossed  the  lawn  and  arrived  at  the  spot 
where  Henry  now  stood,  she  was  saluted  by  her  brother,  with — 


406 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Stand,  my  gentle  sister,  you  and  your  monkey  !  Ah,  Mildred, 
you  are  not  what  you  used  to  be ;  you  have  grown  much  too  grave 
of  late.  Bear  up,  dear  sister  :  for,  after  all,  what  is  it !  Why  we 
have  been  beaten,  and  we  must  fight  it  over  again,  that’s  all.  And 
as  to  the  major,  your  partiality  magnifies  his  dangers.  Hasn’t  he 
an  arm  ? — yes ;  and  hasn’t  he  a  leg  ? — which,  in  war,  I  hold  to  be 
just  as  useful  sometimes.” 

“  There  is  a  dreadful  uncertainty,  brother,”  replied  Mildred.  “  I 
dream  of  the  worst.” 

“  A  fig  for  your  dreams,  sister  Mildred  !  They  have  been  all 
sorts  of  ways,  and  that  you  know.  Now,  I  have  a  waking  dream, 
and  that  is,  that  before  you  are  twenty-four  hours  older  you  will 
hear  of  Major  Butler.” 

“  Would  to  heaven  your  dream  may  prove  true  !”  replied  Mil¬ 
dred.  “.But,  Henry,  you  love  me,  and  affection  is  an  arrant  cheat 
in  its  prophecies.” 

“  Tush  then,  sister !  don’t  talk  of  it.  For  when  we  know  nothing, 
it  does  no  good  to  get  to  fancying.  These  are  the  times  to  act ; 
and  perhaps  I’ll  surprise  you  yet.” 

“  With  what,  good  brother  ?” 

“  Order  arms,”  replied  Henry,  evading  his  sister’s  inquiry,  and  at 
the  same  time  assuming  a  military  erectness,  and  bringing  his  rifle 
briskly  to  the  ground — “  with  the  beauty  of  my  drijl,  sister.  It 
even  surprises  myself.  You  shall  see  me  march.”  And  here  he 
sportively  shouldered  his  rifle  and  stepped  with  a  measured  pace 
across  the  green,  and  then  back  again  ;  whilst  the  saucy  Endymion, 
presuming  on  his  privilege,  with  mimic  gestures,  followed  immedi¬ 
ately  in  Henry’s  rear,  taking  large  strides  to  keep  his  ground. 
When  Henry  perceived  the  apish  muiion  thus  upon  his  track  he 
burst  out  into  a  laugh. 

“  You  huge  giant-killer,  do  you  mock  me  ?”  he  exclaimed. 
“  Sister,  I  will  smother  your  body-guard  in  the  crown  of  my  cap, 
if  he  isn’t  taught  better  manners.” 

“  Henry,  I  cannot  share  your  light  heart  with  you,”  said  Mildred 
sorrowfully,  “  mine  is  heavy.” 

“  And  mine  is  yours,  sister,  light  or  heavy ;  in  sunshine  or  in 
storm,  summer  and  winter,  dear  Mildred,  it  is  always  yours.  It 


407 


HORSE  SitOE  ROBINSON. 

was  a  trick  of  mine  to  amuse  you.  And  if  I  do  not  seem  to  feel, 
sister,  as  you  do,  it  is  because  I  mean  to  act.  We  men  have  no 
time  for  low  spirits.” 

“  Stephen  Foster  is  here  at  the  door  with  our  horses,  brother. 
Boy,  give  me  the  whip — now,  away.  The  gay  feathers  of  this 
hird,”  said  Mildred,  as  the  little  black  retired,  “  do  not  become  a 
follower  of  mine.” 

The  new  aspect  of  affairs,  since  the  defeat  of  Camden,  had 
pressed  gi-ievously  upon  Mildred’s  spirits.  The  country  was  full 
of  disheartening  rumors,  and  every  daj  added  particulars  that 
were  of  a  nature  to  increase  the  distress.  The  bloody  fate  of  the 
brave  De  Kalb,  and  the  soldiers  that  fell  by  his  side ;  the  triumph 
with  which  Cornwallis  had  begun  his  preparations  for  further 
conquests ;  the  destitution  and  disarray  of  the  American  army, 
now  flying  before  its  enemy  ;  the  tales  of  unsparing  sequestration 
with  which,  in  Carolina,  the  lands  of  those  who  still  bore  arms  in 
the  cause  of  independence,  were  visited  ;  the  military  executions  of 
prisoners  charged  with  the  violation  of  a  constructive  allegiance, 
in  the  conquered  districts  ;  the  harsh  measures  which  were  adopted 
to  break  the  heart  of  the  rebellion,  that  still  lingered  behind  the 
march  of  the  victorious  army;  and,  above  all,  the  boastful  con¬ 
fidence  with  which  Cornwallis,  by  his  proclamations,  sought  to  open 
the  way  for  his  invasion  of  North  Carolina  and  Virginia,  by  at¬ 
tempting  to  rally  the  liege  subjects  of  the  king  under  his  standard  : 
all  these  events  came  on  the  wings  of  rumor,  and  had  lighted  up 
a  flame  through  the  whole  country.  To  Mildred,  they  all  imported 
an  ill  omen  as  regarded  the  fate  of  Arthur  Butler.  Now  and 
then,  a  straggling  soldier  of  Gates’s  broken  force  arrived  at  the 
Dove  Cote,  where  he  was  received  with  an  eager  hospitality,  and 
closely  questioned  as  to  the  events  in  which  he  had  participated. 
But  of  Butler,  not  even  the  remotest  tidings  were  obtained.  For 
the  present,  the  uncertainty  of  his  fortune  filled  Mildred’s  thoughts 
with  the  most  anxious  and  unhappy  misgivings ;  and  this  frame  of 
mind  over-mastered  all  other  feelings.  The  late  visit  of  Tyrrel  to 
the  Dove  Cote,  and  the  abrupt  departure  of  her  father  with  this 
indiWdual,  on  an  unavowed  expedition,  were  not  calculated  to  allay 
her  fears ;  and  she  felt  herself  pressed  on  all  sides  with  the  pre¬ 
sages  of  coming  misfortune.  In  these  difiiculties  she  did  not  lose 


408 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


her  fortitude  ;  but,  like  a  mariner  benighted  in  a  dangerous  strait, 
she  counted  over  the  anxious  moments  of  her  voyage,  expecting, 
at  each  succeeding  instant,  to  hear  the  dreadful  stranding  of 
her  bark  upon  the  unseen  rock,  though  bravely  prepared  for  the 
worst. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIIl 


AN  ARRIVAL  AT  THE  DOVE  COTE.  MILDRED  RESOLVES  ON  A 
PERILOUS  ADVENTURE. 

It  was  in  the  state  of  painful  expectation  described  in  the  last 
chapter,  that  Mildred  now  rode  out,  daily,  upon  the  highways,  in 
the  feeble  hope  of  hearing  something  of  importance  from  the  casual 
wayfarers  who,  in  the  present  excited  condition  of  the  country, 
were  thronging  the  roads.  On  the  morning  to  which  our  narrative 
refers,  she  had  charged  Henry  to  procure  the  attendance  of  Stephen 
Foster,  to  whom,  as  it  was  known  that  he  was  about  to  accompany 
his  troop  towards  the  scene  of  hostilities,  she  was  anxious  to  in¬ 
trust  a  letter  for  Butler,  as  well  as  to  communicate  to  him  some 
instructions  relating  to  it. 

Stephen  was,  accordingly,  now  in  attendance.  A  sleek,  full- 
blooded  roan,  of  an  active,  deer-like  figure,  and  showing  by  his 
mettlesome  antics  the  high  training  of  a  pampered  favorite,  stood 
in  the  care  of  the  groom  at  the  door ;  and  Mildred,  aided  by  her 
brother,  sprang  into  her  saddle  with  the  ease  and  confidence  of 
one  familiarized  to  the  exploit.  When  mounted,  she  appeared  to 
great  advantage.  She  was  an  expert  rider,  and  managed  her  horse 
with  a  dexterous  grace.  The  very  position  of  command  and  author¬ 
ity  which  her  saddle  gave  her,  seemed  to  raise  her  spirits  into  a 
happier  elevation. 

“  Follow  me.  Mister  Stephen,”  she  said,  “  I  have  service  for  yon. 
And  it  will  not  be  out  of  the  fashion  of  the  time  that  a  lady  should 
be  ’squired  by  an  armed  soldier.  We  take  the  road  down  the 
river.  Have  a  care,  brother,  how  you  bound  ofiF  at  the  start — the 
hill  is  steep,  and  a  horse’s  foot  is  not  over  sure  when  pressed  too 
rapidly  on  the  descent.” 

The  cavalcade  descended  the  hill,  crossed  the  ford,  and  then 
took  a  direction  down  the  stream,  by  the  road  that  led  beneath  the 

18  «09 


410 


HORSE  SHOE  R0BIN80X. 


Fawn’s  Tower.  Mildred  sighed  as  she  gazed  around  her,  and  saw 
the  spot  of  her  last  meeting  with  Butler.  The  little  sMff  by  which 
her  lover  had  glided  across  the  water,  now  lay  upon  a  dry  bed  of 
rock,  in  the  same  position,  perhaps,  where  a  month  ago  he  had 
left  it.  The  summer  drought  had  reduced  the  stream,  and  deprived 
the  light  boat  (whose  tackle  kept  it  prisoner  to  the  root  of  the 
sycamore)  of  the  element  on  which  it  had  floated.  This  spectacle 
suggested  to  Mildred’s  thoughts  a  melancholy  image.  “  Even 
thus,”  she  muttered  to  herself,  “  have  I.been  left  by  him.  He  has 
gone  to  obey  the  calls  of  honor  and  duty,  and  I,  fettered  to  my 
native  woods,  have  seen  the  stream  of  happiness  roll  by,  one  while 
swollen  to  a  torrent,  and  again  dried  up  by  the  fervid  heat  of  war, 
until,  like  this  sun-withered  bark,  I  have  been  left  upon  the  shore, 
without  one  drop  of  that  clear  current  on  which  alone  I  hoped  to 
live.  Come  hither,  Stephen,”  she  said,  as  she  slackened  the  rein 
of  her  horse  :  and  the  obedient  attendant  was  immediately  at  her 
side. 

“  You  set  out  southwards,  with  your  comrades  of  the  troop,  in  a 
few  days  ?” 

“  Orders  may  come  to-morrow,”  replied  Foster. 

“  It  is  no  holiday  game  that  you  are  going  to  play,”  continued 
the  lady. 

“  When  Congress  cut  out  this  here  war  for  us.  Miss  Mildred,” 
answered  the  hunter,  “  they  didn’t  count  upon  settling  of  it  with¬ 
out  making  some  tall  fellows  the  shorter.  And  it  is  my  opinion 
that  it  is  a  p’int  of  conscience  that  every  man  should  take  his 
spell  of  the  work.”  ^ 

“  You  go  to  it  with  a  good  heart,”  said  Mildred.  “  We  women 
can  only  pray  for  you,  lieutenant.” 

“  I  shall  pull  trigger  with  a  steadier  hand,  ma’am,  when  I  think 
that  your  father’s  daughter  is  praying  for  me.” 

“  Stephen,”  continued  Mildred,  “  you  may  chance  to  see  some 
one  whose  duty  may  lead  him  further  south  than,  perhaps,  you 
may  be  required  to  travel :  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to  a  friend  of 
mine,  who,  I  fear,  is  in  distress.  If  such  traveller  be  trusty  and 
willing  to  do  me  a  service,  as  perhaps  he  may  for  your  sake, 
I  must  beg  you  to  put  the  letter  in  his  charge,  and  tell  him  to  seek 
out  Major  Butler,  and  contrive  to  have  it  delivered  to  him.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


411 


“  If  it  concerns  you,  Miss  Mildred,  I  will  take  upon  myself  to 
hunt  Major  Butler,  or  I  will  make  as  sure  of  the  letter  reaching 
him  as  I  may  have  a  chance.” 

“  Many  thanks,  Stephen.  There  is  a  purse  containing  some  few 
pieces  of  gold  for  you.  Do  not  spare  the  use  of  it  to  perform  my 
wish.” 

Stephen  looked  bashfully  at  the  lady  as  she  held  the  proffered 
purse  in  her  hand. 

“  Take  it,  Mr.  Foster.  It  is  money  to  he  employed  in  my  service, 
and  it  may  stand  you  in  good  stead  when  better  friends  are 
absent.” 

The  hunter  uttered  an  awkward  laugh.  “  If  you  would  allow 
me  to  take  the  smallest  piece  of  money,  it  would  more  than  hire  a 
man  express.” 

“  Take  it  all,  Stephen,  it  is  hut  a  trifle.  They  call  this  the  sinew 
of  war,”  said  Mildred,  smiling. 

“  It’s  an  utter,  moral,  and  resolute  impossibility,”  answered  Fos¬ 
ter,  “  for  me  to  take  all  that  money.  Bless  your  soul.  Miss  Mildred, 
my  pocket  arn’t  used  to  such  company.” 

“Pshaw,  Steve,”  ejaculated  Henry,  “  you  are  the  gi’eenest  soldier 
in  these  hills,  to  be  playing  boy  about  this  money.  Take  it,  man, 
and  none  of  your  nonsense ;  precious  little  gold  you’ll  see  before 
you  get  back !” 

“  Well,  I’ll  not  be  ticklish  about  it,”  said  Foster.  “  Empty  the 
bag.  Miss  Mildred,  into  my  hand.” 

“  I  mean  that  you  shall  have  the  purse  with  it,”  added 
Mildred. 

“  No,  no ;  that’s  too  valuable  a  piece  of  fine  silk  net-work  for 
me.” 

“  Tliere  again.  Lieutenant  Foster,”  said  Henry  ;  “  if  you  were  not 
my  own  superior  officer,  I  would  say  you  were  a  fool.” 

“  Give  it  to  me,”  replied  Stephen,  laughing,  “  I  have  heard  of 
cheating  money  out  of  a  man’s  pocket,  but  I  never  saw  it  cheated 
into  it  before.” 

“  You  shall  have  the  letter  to-morrow,  Stephen,”  said  Mildred, 
“  and  as  you  value  your  poor  friend,  who  worked  that  purse  with 
her  own  hands,  do  not  fail  to  make  an  effort  to  learn  something  of 


412 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Major  Butler,  and  to  have  my  letter  delivered  to  him.  He  was 
made  a  prisoner  somewhere  on  his  way  to  Georgia,  and  I  have 
heard  escaped ;  hut,  perhaps,  that’s  not  true.  You  may  find  some 
one  who  can  tell  you  more  about  him.  Inquire  of  all  you  meet : 
and,  Stephen,  in  my  name,  beg  your  comrades  to  aid  you.  Eemem- 
ber,”  added  Mildred,  with  a  smile,  “  this  is  a  lady’s  secret.  I  am 
sure  you  will  keep  it.” 

“  Most  sacrilegiously  and  with  all  possible  punctuation !”  replied 
the  woodsman.  “And  you  shall  hear  of  the  Major,  Miss  Mildred, 
dead  or  alive.” 

“  Oh  heaven  !”  exclaimed  Mildred  aloud ;  and  then  recollecting 
herself,  she  breathed  in  a  whisper,  “  that  word  vibrated  a  note  of 
fear.  Your  zeal  shall  have  my  warmest  gratitude,  Stephen.” 

By  this  time  the  J^arty  had  reached  the  second  ford,  where  the 
road  recrossed  the  river,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mrs.  Dimock’s, 
and  in  a  few  moments  they  were  at  the  door  of  the  little  inn. 

A  brief  halt,  and  a  few  words  with  the  good  hostess,  furnished 
Mildred  neither  with  a  letter  nor  with  any  information  of  moment 
fi-om  the  quarter,  where  at  this  time  the  thoughts  of  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  American  people  were  turned. 

“  Woful  days.  Miss  Mildred,”  said  the  landlady,  shaking  her 
head,  and  wearing  a  face  of  lugubrious  length,  “  woful  indeed  ! 
nothing  but  hurry-skurry,  and  bragging  and  swearing.  What  with 
Gates’s  runaways,  that — shame  upon  them  ! — come  whipping  post 
haste  along  the  road ;  and  messengers,  dragoons,  and  drill  ser¬ 
geants,  all  out  of  breath,  out  of  money,  and  out  of  everything  but 
appetites ;  which,  mercy  on  me  !  never  fail  in  the  worst  of  times  : 
and  what  with  musterings  of  volunteers,  and  drumming  and  fifing 
of  it,  up  hill  and  down  dale,  it  is  as  much  as  one  can  do  to  keep 
one’s  wits.  Heaven  help  us,  my  dear  !  I  don’t  know  what  we  shall 
come  to.  But  poor  Arthur,”  she  continued,  in  a  mournful  and  lower 
key,  “  not  a  word  from  him.  It  looks  awfully  :  I  could  almost  sit 
down  and  w^eep.  Nevertheless,  Miss  Mildred,  my  child,  be  of  good 
cheer,  God  will  keep  his  foot  from  the  path  that  leads  to  the  snares ; 
we  must  all  trust  in  His  goodness.” 

“  Alas,  alas !”  breathed  Mildred,  in  an  accent  of  sorrow.  “  Brother, 
ride  forward.  If  a  good  word  reaches  you.  Mistress  Dimock,  send 
it  to  me,  even  if  it  be  at  midnight.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


413 


Mildred  pursued  her  ride,  and  Heury,  seeing  how  much  she  was 
dejected,  applied  himself,  with  the  kindest  assiduity,  to  bring  back 
comfort  and  cheerfulness  to  her  mind.  He  sought  to  amuse  her 
with  such  fragments  of  the  gossip  of  the  counti-y-side  as  were 
likely  to  interest  her  patriotism  ;  and  he  contrived  to  recal  to  her 
recollection  passages  in  the  life  of  Butler,  which  related  to  the 
perils  he  had  heretofore  encountered,  and  from  which  he  had  extri¬ 
cated  himself  by  his  address  and  soldiership ;  and  Henry  told  these 
in  such  a  way  as  to  infer  from  them  arguments  of  comfort  that 
suited  the  present  state  of  his  sister’s  feelings.  As  was  usual  in 
most  of  the  young  cadet’s  discourses,  he  glided  into  that  half¬ 
boastful  and  half-waggish  vein  in  which  he  delighted  to  refer  to 
his  own  pursuits  and  aspirations  after  military  glory. 

“  A  man  naturally,  sister,”  he  said,  erecting  himself  in  his  stir¬ 
rups,  and  assuming  the  stiff  carriage  of  a  conceited  young  adju¬ 
tant  on  parade,  “  a  man  naturally  feels  proud  on  horseback.  It  is 
what  I  call  glorification,  to  have  a  noble  beast  under  you,  that  you 
can  turn  and  wind  and  check  and  set  forward  as  you  please,  as  if 
his  limbs  were  your  own.  You  feel  stronger  ;  and,  in  this  world, 
I  do  believe  a  strong  man  is  always  proud.  Now,  I  should  think 
that  a  woman  would  feel  even  more  so  than  a  man  ;  because, 
being  weak  by  nature,  she  must  grow  happier  to  think  how  much 
muscle  she  can  put  in  motion  by  only  pulling  a  rein.” 

“  There  is  some  philosophy  in  that,  Henry,”  replied  Mildred. 

“  So  there  is,  sister ;  and  I  tell  you  more,  that  when  a  person- 
has  this  sort  of  glorification,  as  they  call  it,  they  always  get  more 
contented  with  themselves.  And  that’s  the  reason,  as  far  as  I  am 
a  judge,  that  you  always  feel  in  better  spirits  when  you  are  on 
horseback ;  and,  especially,  if  it  should  be  in  fi-ont  of  a  troop. 
Hallo,  Stephen  !”  ejaculated  Henry,  taken  by  surprise,  in  the  midst 
of  his  discourse,  by  the  sight  of  a  flock  of  wild  turkeys  that  ran 
across  the  road,  some  hundred  paces  a-head.  “  Did  you  see  that  ? 
Halt,  man — here’s  game  for  us.”  And,  in  an  instant,  he  sprang 
from  his  horse,  which  he  fastened  to  one  of  the  neighboring  trees, 
and  ran  off  with  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  in  pursuit  of  the  flock. 

Stephen,  whose  instincts  were  those  of  a  keen  sportsman,  when 
game  was  before  him,  did  the  same  thing ;  and  in  a  few  moments 
Mildred  found  herself  left  entirely  alone  in  the  road,  half  disposed 


414 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


to  chide  and  half  to  smile  at  the  eager  and  ungallant  desertion  of 
her  attendants,  who  were  now  in  quick  but  cautious  pursuit  of  the 
brood  of  turkeys.  The  speed  with  which  these  birds  are  accus¬ 
tomed  to  run  through  the  woods,  allured  their  pursuers  to  some 
distance  into  the  depths  of  the  forest ;  and  Mildred  patiently 
awaited  the  return  of  her  companions  on  the  ground  where  they 
had  left  her. 

After  five  or  ten  minutes  had  elapsed,  it  was  with  a  sensation  of 
some  little  concern  that  she  descried,  upon  the  road,  a  stranger 
mounted  on  horseback,  and  coming  at  a  brisk  trot  to  the  spot 
where  she  had  halted.  The  appearance  of  the  individual  was  that 
of  one  of  the  irregular  soldiers  who  had  accompanied  Gates’s 
array ;  his  dress  was  rustic,  and  his  weapon,  according  to  the 
almost  universal  fashion  of  the  country  troops,  the  long  rifle.  The 
condition  of  his  sturdy  steed  showed  long  and  fatiguing  service ; 
whilst  the  bold  and  manly  person  of  the  rider  left  little  room  to 
suppose  that  he  was  to  be  classed  among'st  the  many  who  had  fled 
in  panic  from  the  field  of  action.  As  soon  as  the  stranger  be¬ 
came  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  lady,  he  slackened  his  speed  and 
approached  with  a  respectful  salutation. 

“  If  I  mought  be  so  bold,  ma’am,  how  far  mought  it  be  to  a  river 
they  call  the  Rockfish  ?” 

“  It  is  scarce  two  miles  away,  sir,”  replied  Mildred. 

“  And  there,  if  I  don’t  disremember,”  said  the  traveller,  “  is  a 
house  kept  by  the  widow  Dimock  ;  the  Blue  Ball,  I  think  ?” 

“  There  is,  sir.” 

“  And  no  forks  in  the  road  betwixt  this  and  the  widow’s  ?” 

“  It  is  a  plain  road,”  replied  Mildred. 

“  And  about  two  miles  beyont — is  squire  Lindsay’s,  at  a  place 
they  call  the  Dove  Cote  ?” 

“  Does  your  business  take  you  there  ?”  asked  Mildred,  with  in¬ 
terest  ;  “  are  you  from  the  army  ? — whence  come  you  ?” 

“  Beg  pardon,  ma’am,”  replied  the  stranger,  smihng,  “  but  I 
am  an  old  sodger,  and  rather  warry  about  answering  questions  that 
consarn  myself.  I  suppose  it  is  likely  I  mought  see  Mr.  Lindsay  ?” 

“  Pray,  sh,  tell  me  what  brings  you  here,  and  who  you  are  ?  I 
have  special  reasons  for  presuming  so  far  upon  yom‘  kindness.  I 
myself  live  at  the  Dove  Cote,  and” — 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


415 


“  Then,  mayhap,  you  mought  have  hearn  of  one  Major  Arthur 
Butler?” 

“  Oh  yes,  sir, — if  you  have  any  news  of  him,  speak  it  to  me 
quickly,”  exclaimed  Mildred,  with  much  agitation. 

“  By  that  sparkling  of  your  eye,  ma’am,  it  is  no  fool’s  guess  that 
you  are  the  identical  particular  lady  that  I  have  rode  nigh  on  to  five 
hundred  miles  to  see.  You  have  heam  the  Major  tell  of  Horse 
Shoe  Robinson?” 

“  And  Arthur  Butler.” 

“  He  is  well,  madam,  and  in  good  heart,  excepting  some  trifling 
drawbacks  that  don’t  come  to  much  account.” 

“  Thank  God,  thank  God,  for  this  news  !” 

“  I  have  brought  two  letters.  Miss  Lindsay,  from  the  Major,  for 
you  ;  they  will  tell  you,  I  believe,  mainly,  that  the  Major  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  Philistians,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  rummaging  through  the 
plaits  of  his  dress,  and  getting  loose  the  belt  and  leathern  pouch  from 
which,  by  the  help  of  his  jack-knife,  he  extricated  the  missives  ;  “  but 
they  leave  the  story  to  be  told  pretty  much  by  me.  The  long  and 
the  short  of  it  is,  that  the  Major  is  a  prisoner,  and  wants  some  as¬ 
sistance  from  you  :  but  there  is  no  danger  of  any  harm  being  done 
him.” 

Mildred  eagerly  tore  open  the  letters  and  read  them ;  then  heav¬ 
ing  a  sigh,  she  said,  “  He  is  closely  watched,  and  galled  with  mis¬ 
fortune.  He  refers  to  you,  Mr.  Robinson,  and  I  must  beg  you  to 
tell  me  all.” 

Horse  Shoe,  with  a  cheerful  and  occasionally  even  with  a  laugh¬ 
ing  manner,  adopted  to  reassure  the  lady  and  quell  her  fears, 
recounted  all  such  particulars  of  Butler’s  adventures  as  were  neces¬ 
sary  to  enable  her  to  comprehend  the  nature  of  his  present  mission 
to  the  Dove  Cote. 

Before  this  narrative  was  brought  to  a  close,  Henry  and  Foster 
had  returned,  bringing  with  them  a  large  turkey  which  Henry  had 
shot,  and  which  the  young  sportsman  was  exhibiting  with  ostenta¬ 
tious  triumph. 

“  Huzza,  here’s  a  new  turn  of  good  luck !  Horse  Shoe  Robin¬ 
son,  the  brave  •sergeant,”  shouted  Henry,  as  soon  as  he  observed 
the  stout  figure  of  our  old  friend.  “  Is  Major  Butler  here  too  ?” 

* 


416 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


he  demanded,  as  he  shook  the  sergeant’s  hand,  “  or  have  you  come 
alone  ?  Now,  sister,  you  ought  to  be  a  happy  woman.  You  bring 
us  good  news,  Mr.  Horse  Shoe,  I  know  you  do.” 

“  The  news  is  better  than  it  mought  have  been  if  the  Tories  had 
had  their  way,”  replied  Home  Shoe.  “  But  a  sodger’s  life  has  both 
shade  and  sunshine  in  it ;  and  the  Major  is  now  a  little  in  the 
shade.” 

“  Brother,  mount  quickly,”  said  Mildred,  “  we  have  business 
before  us.  Mr.  Eobinson,  ride  beside  me  ;  I  have  much  to  say  to 
you.” 

Stephen  Foster,  after  saluting  the  sergeant,  and  reminding  Mil¬ 
dred  of  his  engagement  to  meet  his  troop,  took  his  leave  of  the 
party. 

The  rest  repaired,  with  as  much  expedition  as  they  were  able  to 
employ,  to  the  Dove  Cote,  Horse  Shoe  detailing  to  the  brother  and 
sister,  as  they  went  along,  a  great  many  particulars  of  the  late  his¬ 
tory  of  Butler. 

Wlien  they  reached  the  house,  orders  were  given  for  the  accom¬ 
modation  of  the  sergeant ;  and  the  most  sedulous  attention  was 
shown  to  everything  that  regarded  his  comfort.  Frequent  con¬ 
ferences  were  held  between  Mildred  and  Henry,  and  the  trusty 
emissary.  The  letters  were  reperused,  and  all  the  circumstances 
that  belonged  to  Butler’s  means  of  liberation  were  anxiously 
discussed. 

“  How  unlucky  is  it,”  said  Mildred,  “  that  my  father  should  be 
absent  at  such  a  moment  as  this  !  Arthur’s  appeal  to  him  would 
convince  him  how  wicked  was  Tyrrel’s  charge  against  his  honoi-. 
And  yet,  in  my  father’s  late  mood,  the  appeal  might  have  been  in¬ 
effectual  ;  he  might  have  refused.  Sergeant,  we  are  in  great 
diflBculties,  and  I  know  not  what  to  do.  A  letter,  you  say,  has  been 
written  to  Lord  Cornwallis  ?” 

“  Yes,  ma’am,  and  by  a  man  who  sharpened  his  pen  with  his 
sword.” 

“  You  heard  nothing  of  the  answer  of  his  Lordship  ?” 

“  There  was  not  time  to  hear.” 

“  Cornwallis  will  be  prejudiced  by  those  around,  him,  and  he  will 
refuse,”  said  Mildred,  with  an  air  of  deep  solicitude. 

“  Not  if  he  be  the  man  I  take  him  to  be,  young  lady,”  replied 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


417 


Horse  Shoe.  “  The  world  says  he  is  above  doing  a  cowardly  thing ; 
and  it  isn’t  natural  for  one  brave  man  to  wish  harm  against  another, 
except  in  open  war.” 

“  Did  you  hear  of  one  Tyrrel,  in  the  British  camp  ?  But  how 
could  you  ? — that  was  an  assumed  name.” 

“  You  mean  the  gentleman  who  was  here  when  the  major  stopped 
at  Mrs.  Dimock’s  ?”  said  Robinson  :  “  that  was  the  name  the  land¬ 
lady  spoke  about — if  I  remember  myself.  I  did  not  hear  of  him, 
ma’am,  in  my  travels ;  but  his  servant,  James  Curry,  I  met  oftener, 
I  undertake  to  say,  than  the  fellow  wished.  He  was  consarned  in 
ambushing  Major  Butler  and  me  at  Grindall’s  Ford.  It  was  our 
opinion  he  was  hired.” 

“  There,”  exclaimed  Mildred,  “  that  confirms  what  I  guessed  of 
Tyrrel’s  villany.  I  will  go  to  Cornwallis  myself :  I  will  expose  the 
whole  matter  to  his  lordship.  Henry,  my  dear  brother,  it  is  a  rash 
venture,  but  I  will  essay  it.  You  must  accompany  and  protect  me.” 

“  That’s  a  sudden  thought,  sister,  and  you  may  count  on  my 
hearty  good  will  to  help  it  along.  It  is  a  brave  thought  of  yours, 
besides,”  said  Henry,  pondering  over  it — “  and  everybody  will 
praise  you  for  it.” 

Robinson  listened  to  this  resolve  with  an  incredulous  ear. 

“  You  wouldn’t  venture,  young  madam,  to  trust  yourself  amongst 
such  rough  and  unchristian  people,  as  you  would  have  to  go 
among  before  you  could  see  Cornwallis  ?  in  danger  of  being  taken 
up  by  outposts  and  pickets,  or  arrested  by  patroles,  or  dragged 
about  by  dragoons  and  fellows  that  have  more  savagery  in  them 
than  wolves.  Oh  no,  ma’am,  you  don’t  know  what  you  would 
have  to  put  up  with  ;  that’s  onpossible.  Mr.  Henry,  here,  and  me 
can  take  a  letter.” 

“I  may  not  trust  to  letters,  I  must  go  myself.  You  will  protect 
me,  Mr.  Robinson  ?  my  brother  and  I  will  form  some  good  excuse 
that  shall  take  us  through  safely.” 

“  Sartainly,  ma’am,  I  will  stand  by  you  through  all  chances,  if 
you  go,”  replied  the  sergeant.  “  But  there’s  not  many  women,  with 
their  eyes  open,  u'ould  set  out  on  such  a  march.” 

“  It  will  be  easily  achieved,”  said  Mildred  ;  “  it  is  an  honest  and 
virtuous  cause  that  takes  me  away,  and  I  will  attempt  it  with  a 
valiant  spirit.  It  cannot  but  come  to  good.  My  father’s  name  Avill 

18^- 


418 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


give  me  free  passage  through  the  enemy’s  lines.  And  you  shall 
pass  as  my  attendant.” 

“  If  you  have  a  heart  stout  enough,  ma’am,  for  such  hard  fare,  I 
believe  I  mought  undertake  for  yom*  safe  passage,”  answered 
Horse  Shoe,  “and  it  sartainly , would  do  the  major  great  good  to 
hear  that  you  was  stirring  in  this  matter.” 

“  Sergeant,  recruit  yourself  as  long  as  you  think  necessary,”  said 
Mildred ;  “  but  if  you  can  be  ready  to  set  out  to-morrow,  I  should 
like  to  go  then,  and  at  an  early  hour.” 

“  Don’t  stand  upon  my  fatigue,  young  lady :  I  never  saw  the 
time  when  I  wan’t  ready  to  march  at  the  shortest  warning.  With 
your  leave,  I  will  go  look  after  my  horse.  Captain  Peter,  I  call  him, 
ma’am.  A  little  chance  of  a  roll,  and  the  privilege  of  a  good 
green  pasture,  soon  puts  him  in  marching  trim.” 

The  sergeant  now  left  the  room. 

“  Sister,”  said  Henry,  “  you  never  thought  a  better  thought,  and 
you  never  contrived  a  better  act,  than  just  taking  this  matter  in 
hand  yourself,  under  mine  and  Horse  Shoe’s  protection.  Because 
Horse  Shoe  is  as  brave  a  man  as  you  ever  fell  in  with,  and  as  for 
me.  I’ll  back  the  sergeant.  We  can  finish  the  thing  in  two  or 
three  weeks,  and  then,  when  I  see  you  safe  home.  I’ll  go  and  join 
the  Rangers.” 

“  It  is  a  perilous  and  uncertain  journey,  brother,  but  it  is  my 
duty.  I  would  rather  fall  beneath  the  calamities  of  war  than 
longer  endure  my  present  feelings.  Provide  yourself,  brother,  with 
all  things  requisite  for  our  journey,  and  give  old  Isaac,  the  gar¬ 
dener,  notice  that  he  must  go  with  us.  We  shall  set  out  to-morrow. 
I  will  write  a  letter  to  my  father  to-night  explaining  my  purpose. 
And  one  thing,  Henry ;  you  will  be  careful  to  say  nothing  to  any 
one  of  the  route  we  shall  travel.” 

“I’ll  take  my  carbine,  sister,”  said  Henry,  “I  can  sling  it 
with  a  strap.  And  I  was  thinking  I  had  better  have  a  broad¬ 
sword.” 

“  Leave  that  behind,”  replied  Mildred,  as  a  smile  rose  on  her 
features. 

“  The  bugle  I  will  certainly  take,”  added  Henry ;  “  because  it 
might  be  useful  in  case  we  got  separated  ;  and  I  will  teach  yo  i  to 
understand  my  signals.  Isaac  shall  carry  horse-pistols  on  his 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


419 


saddle,  and  the  sergeant  shall  have  a  great  wallet  of  provisions. 
You  see  I  understand  campaigning,  Mildred.  And  now,”  added 
the  eager  young  soldier,  as  he  left  the  apartment,  “  hurra  for 
the  volimteers  of  the  Dove  Cote  1” 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


MILDRED  BEGINS  HER  JOURNEY. 

The  man  who  writes  the  history  of  woman’s  love  will  find  himself 
employed  in  drawing  out  a  tangled  skein.  It  is  a  history  of  secret 
emotions  and  vivid  contrasts,  which  may  well  go  nigh  to  baffle  his 
penetration  and  to  puzzle  his  philosophy.  There  is  in  it  a  surface 
of  timid  and  gentle  bashfulness  concealing  an  underflow  of  strong 
and  heady  passion  :  a  seeming  caprice  that  a  breath  may  shake  or 
a  word  alarm  ;  yet,  all  the  while,  an  earnest  devotion  of  soul  which, 
in  its  excited  action,  holds  all  danger  cheap  that  crosses  the  path  of 
its  career.  The  sportive,  changeful,  and  coward  nature  that  dallies 
with  affection  as  a  jest,  and  wins  admiration  by  its  affrighted  coy¬ 
ness  ;  that  flies  and  would  be  followed  ;  that  revolts  and  would  be 
soothed,  entreated,  and  on  bended  knee  implored,  before  it  is  won  ; 
that  same  nature  will  undergo  the  ordeal  of  the  burning  plough¬ 
share,  take  all  the  extremes  of  misery  and  distress,  brave  the  fury 
of  the  elements  and  the  wrath  of  man,  and  in  every  peril  be  a 
patient  comforter,  when  the  cause  that  moves  her  is  the  vindication 
of  her  love.  Affection  is  to  her  what  glory  is  to  man,  an  impulse 
that  inspires  the  most  adventurous  heroism. 

There  had  been  for  some  days  past  in  Mildred’s  mind  an 
anxious  misgiving  of  misfortune  to  Butler,  which  was  but  ill 
concealed  in  a  quiet  and  reserved  demeanor.  The  argument  of 
his  safety  seemed  to  have  little  to  rest  upon,  and  she  could  perceive 
that  it  was  not  believed  by  those  who  uttered  it.  There  rose  upon 
her  thoughts  imaginings  or  presentiments  of  ill,  which  she  did  not 
like  to  dwell  upon,  but  which  she  could  not  banish.  And  now 
when  Horse  Shoe  had  told  his  tale,  the  incidents  did  not  seem  to 
warrant  the  levity  with  which  he  passed  them  by.  She  was  afraid 
to  express  her  doubts  :  and  they  brooded  upon  her  mind,  hatching 
pain  and  secret  grief.  It  was  almost  an  instinct,  therefore,  that 

420 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON.  421 

directed  her  resolve,  when  she  announced  her  deteiinination  to  go 
in  person  in  quest  of  Cornwallis,  and  to  plead  Butler’s  cause  her¬ 
self  to  the  British  general.  Her  soul  rebelled  at  the  gross  calumny 
which  had  been  invented  to  bring  down  vengeance  upon  Arthur’s 
head  ;  and  she  had  no  thought  of  thwarting  the  accuser’s  wicked¬ 
ness,  but  by  an  appeal  to  the  highest  power  for  that  redress  which 
an  honorable  soldier,  in  her  opinion,  could  not  refuse,  even  to  an 
enemy.  As  to  the  personal  hazard,  inconvenience,  or  difficulty  of 
her  projected  enterprise,  no  thought  of  either  for  a  moment 
occupied  her.  She  saw  but  her  purpose  before  her,  and  did  not 
pause  to  reckon  on  the  means  by  which  she  was  to  promote  it. 
She  reflected  not  on  the  censure  of  the  world  ;  nor  on  its  ridicule  ; 
nor  on  its  want  of  sympathy  for  her  feelings  ;  she  reflected  only 
on  her  power  to  serve  one  dearer  to  her  than  a  friend,  upon  her 
duty,  and  upon  the  agony  of  her  doubts.  If  her  father  had  been 
at  hand  she  might  have  appealed  to  him,  and,  perhaps, 
have  submitted  to  his  counsel ;  but  he  was  absent,  she  knew  not 
where,  and  she  was  convinced  that  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  “  Even 
now,  whilst  we  debate,”  she  said,  “  his  life  may  be  forfeited  to  the 
malice  of  the  wicked  "men  who  have  ensnared  him.” 

Her  conduct  in  this  crisis  is  not  to  be  weighed  in  the  scale 
wherein  the  seemly  and  decorous  observances  of  female  propriety 
are  ordinarily  balanced.  The  times,  the  occasion,  and  the  peculiar 
position  of  Mildred,  take  her  case  out  of  the  pale  of  common 
events,  and  are  entitled  to  another  standard.  She  will  be  judged 
by  the  purity  of  her  heart,  the  fervor  of  her  attachment,  and  her 
sense  of  the  importance  of  the  service  she  was  about  to  confer. 
And  with  the  knowledge  of  these,  I  must  leave  her  vindication  to 
the  generosity  of  my  reader. 

When  the  morning  came  and  breakfast  was  over,  the  homes 
were  brought  to  the  door.  Henry  was  active  in  all  the  preliminary 
arrangements  for  the  journey,  and  now  bestirred  himself  with  an 
increased  air  of  personal  importance.  Isaac,  a  grey-haired  negro, 
of  a  sedate,  and,  like  all  his  tribe,  of  an  abundantly  thoughtful 
length  of  visage,  appeared  in  a  suit  of  livery,  ready  booted  and 
spurred  for  his  journey.  A  large  portmanteau,  containing  a 
supply  of  baggage  for  his  mistress,  was  duly  strapped  behind  his 
saddle,  whilst  a  pair  of  pistols  were  buckled  upon  the  pummel. 


422 


HORSB  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Henry’s  horse  also  had  all  the  furniture  necessary  to  a  campaign ; 
and  the  young  martialist  himself,  notwithstanding  his  sister’s  dis¬ 
approval,  was  begirt  with  a  sword-belt,  from  which  depended  a 
light  sabre,  with  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  exhibiting  himself 
in  the  corps  of  the  Rangers.  His  bugle  hung  gracefully  by  his 
side,  and  his  carbine  was  already  provided  with  a  strap  to  sling  it 
across  his  back.  Stephen  Foster  was  lost  in  wonder  at  these 
sudden  preparations,  of  the  import  of  which  he  could  gain  no 
more  intelligence  from  Hemy  than  that  a  movement  towards  the 
army  was  intended,  of  a  portentous  character. 

Horse  Shoe  sat  quietly  in  the  porch  looking  on  with  a  profes¬ 
sional  unconcern,  whilst  his  trusty  Captain  Peter,  bearing  a  pair  of 
saddle-bags,  now  stutfed  with  a  plethora  of  provisions,  slouched  his 
head,  in  patient  fixedness,  waiting  the  order  to  move.  A  bevy  of 
domestics  hung  around  the  scene  of  preparation,  lost  in  conjectures 
as  to  the  meaning  of  this  strange  array,  and  prosecuting  an  inquiry 
to  satisfy  themselves,  with  fruitless  perseverance. 

When  Mildred  appeared  at  the  door  she  was  habited  for  hsr 
journey.  The  housekeeper,  an  aged  dame,  stood  near  her. 

“  My  travel,  Mistress  Morrison,”  she  said,  addressing  the  matron, 
and  at  thb  same  time  putting  a  letter  into  her  hand,  “  I  trust  will 
not  keep  me  long  from  home.  If  my  father  should  return  before 
I  do,  be  careful  to  give  him  that.  Mr.  Foster,  you  will  not  forget 
your  promise,”  she  added,  as  she  delivered  the  second  letter,  which, 
notwithstanding  her  own  expedition,  she  had  prepared  for  Butler, 
in  the  hope  that  opportunity  might  favor  its  transmission  by 
Stephen. 

“  The  gold,”  said  Stephen,  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket ;  “  you 
will  want  it  yourself.  Miss  Mildred,  and  I  can  do  without  it.” 

“  Never  mind  that,”  interrupted  Mildred.  “  Keep  your  promise, 
and  I  hope  to  be  able  to  reward  you  more  according  to  your 
leserts.” 

“  Heaven  and  the  saints  protect  you.  Miss  Mildred  !”  said  the 
housekeeper,  as  the  lady  bade  her  farewell.  “  You  leave  us  on 
some  heavy  errand.  God  grant  that  you  come  back  with  a  gayer 
face  than  you  take  away  !”  Then  turning  up  her  eyes,  and  raising 
her  hands,  she  ejaculated,  “  This  is  an  awful  thing,  and  past  my 
understanding !” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


423 


Mildred  took  leave  of  the  rest  of  the  group  around  the  door, 
and  was  soon  in  her  saddle.  This  was  a  signal  for  the  rest  to 
mount,  and  as  Stephen  Foster  delivered  Henry  his  rifle,  the  latter 
took  occasion  to  whisper  in  the  hunter’s  ear — 

“  It  is  not  unlikely,  Steve,  that  we  may  meet  each  other  again 
over  here  in  Carolina ;  so  remember  to  make  inquiries  for  us  as 
you  go  along,  and  tell  the  men  I  hope  to  join  them  before  they 
fire  one  shot  in  spite.  But  mum,  Steve,  not  a  word  about  our 
route.” 

Stephen  shook  hands  with  his  young  comrade ;  and  Henry, 
seeing  that  the  rest  of  the  party  had  already  left  the  door  and 
were  some  distance  down  the  hill,  called  out  with  an  elated  tone  of 
good  humor — “  Farewell,  Mrs.  Morrison,  and  all  the  rest  of  you !” 
and  putting  spurs  to  his  horse  galloped  off  to  join  his  sister. 

The- route  pursued  by  the  travellers  lay  due  south,  and  during 
the  first  three  or  four  days  of  their  journey  they  were  still  within 
the  confines  of  Virginia.  To  travel  on  horseback  was  a  customary 
feat,  even  for  ladies,  in  those  days  of  rough  roads  and  scant  means 
of  locomotion  ;  and  such  a  cavalcade  as  we  have  described  was  cal¬ 
culated  to  excite  no  particular  inquiry  from  the  passer-by,  beyond 
that  which  would  now  be  made  on  the  appearance  of  any  party  of 
pleasm'e  upon  the  high-roads,  in  the  course  of  a  summer  excursion. 
Mildred  experienced  severe  fatigue  in  the  first  stages  of  her  jour¬ 
ney  ;  but  by  degrees  this  wore  oflF,  and  she  was  soon  enabled  to 
endure  the  long  day’s  ride  with  scarcely  less  inconvenience  than 
her  fellow-travellers. 

At  that  period  there  were  but  few  inns  in  these  thinly-peopled 
districts,  and  such  as  were  already  established  were  small  and  but 
meagrely  provided.  This  deficiency  was,  in  some  degree,  compen¬ 
sated  by  the  good  will  with  which  the  owners  of  private  establish¬ 
ments  in  the  country  received  the  better  class  of  travellers,  and  the 
ready  hospitality  with  which  they  entertained  them.  Heniy  took 
upon  himself  to  obtain  information  of  the  gentlemen’s  seats  that 
lay  near  the  route  of  his  journey,  and  to  conduct  the  party  to  them 
whenever  his  sister’s  comfort  required  better  accommodation  than 
the  common  inns  afforded. 

As  our  travellers  had  thus  far  kept  along  that  range  of  country 
which  lay  immediately  under  the  mountains,  they  were  not  annoyed 


424 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


by  the  intense  beats  which,  at  this  season,  prevailed  in  the  lowlands. 
The  weather,  ever  since  their  departure,  had  been  uncommonly 
fine,  and  as  is  usual  in  this  distinct,  the  month  of  Sejitember  had 
brought  its  cool,  dewy  nights,  whilst  the  early  hours  of  the  morn¬ 
ing  were  even  marked  by  a  little  sharpness,  almost  approaching  to 
frost.  The  efiect  of  this  on  Mildred  was  to  recruit  the  weariness 
of  travel,  and  better  enable  her  to  encounter  the  noon-tide  fervors 
of  the  sun ;  and  she  had  so  far  endured  the  toils  of  her  journey 
with  an  admirable  spirit.  Actual  trial  generally  results  in  demon¬ 
strating  how  much  we  are  prone  to  exaggerate  in  advance  the 
difiiculties  of  any  undertaking.  Accordingly,  Mildred’s  present 
experience  strengthened  her  resolution  to  proceed,  and  even  com¬ 
municated  an  unexpected  increase  of  contentment  to  her  feelings. 

On  the  fifth  day  the  party  crossed  the  river  Dan,  and  entered 
the  province  of  North  Carolina.  A  small  remnant  of  Gates’s  shat¬ 
tered  army  lay  at  Hillsborough,  at  no  great  distance  from  the 
frontier ;  and  as  Mildred  was  anxious  to  avoid  the  inquiry  or  moles¬ 
tation  to  be  expected  in  passing  through  a  military  post,  she  re¬ 
solved  to  travel  by  a  lower  route,  and  Horse  Shoe,  therefore,  at 
her  suggestion,  directed  his  journey  towards  the  little  village  of 
Tarborough. 

Cornwallis,  it  was  understood,  since  the  battle  of  Camden,  had 
removed  his  head-quarters  into  the  neighborhood  of  theWaxhaws, 
some  distance  up  the  Catawba,  where  he  was  supposed  to  be  yet 
stationary.  The  whole  country  in  the  neighborhood  of  either 
army  was  in  a  state  of  earnest  preparation ;  the  British  commander 
recruiting  his  forces  for  further  and  immediate  operations — the 
American  endeavoring  to  reassemble  his  feeble  and  scattered  auxi¬ 
liaries  for  defence.  At  the  present  moment,  actual  hostilities  be¬ 
tween  these  two  parties  were  entirely  suspended,  in  anxious  anti¬ 
cipation  of  the  rapidly  approaching  renewal  of  the  struggle’.  It 
was  a  breathing  time,  when  the  panting  combatants,  exhausted  by 
battle,  stood  sullenly  eyeing  each  other  and  making  ready — the  one 
to  strike,  the  other  to  ward  off  another  staggering  blow. 

The  country  over  which  Mildred  was  now  to  travel  was  calcu¬ 
lated  to  tax  her  powers  of  endurance  to  the  utmost.  It  was  a 
dreary  waste  of  barren  wilderness,  covered  with  an  endless  forest 
of  gloomy  pine,  through  which  a  heavy,  sandy  road  crept  in  lurid 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


425 


and  melancholy  shade.  Here  and  there  a  miserable  hut  occurred 
to  view,  with  a  few  ragged  inmates,  surrounded  by  all  the  signs 
of  squalid  poverty.  The  principal  population  were  only  to  be  seen 
along  the  banks  of  the  rivers  which  penetrated  into  this  region, 
some  twenty  or  thirty  miles  distant  from  each  other.  The  allu\dal 
bottoms  through  which  these  streams  found  a  channel  to  the  ocean, 
Avere  the  only  tracts  of  land  of  sufficient  fertility  to  afford  support 
to  man — all  between  them  Avas  a  sterile  and  gloomy  forest. 

Still,  these  regions  were  not  deserted.  Bodies  of  irregular  troops,  • 
ill  clothed  and  Avorse  armed,  and  generally  bearing  the  haggard 
features  of  disease,  such  as  mark  the  population  of  a  sickly  climate, 
were  often  encountered  upon  the  road,  directing  their  Avearied 
march  toAvards  the  head-quarters  of  the  republican  army.  The 
rigors  of  the  Southern  summer  had  not  yet  abated ;  and  it  Avas 
with  painful  steps  in  the  deep  sand,  amid  clouds  of  suffocating  dust, 
that  these  little  detachments  prosecuted  their  journey. 

Mildred,  so  far  from  sinking  under  the  weariness  and  increasing 
hardships  of  her  present  toils,  seemed  to  be  endued  with  a  capacity 
for  sustaining  them  much  beyond  anything  that  could  have  been 
believed  of  her  sex.  Her  courage  grcAv  with  the  difficulties  that 
beset  her.  She  looked  composedly  upon  the  obstacles  before  her, 
and  encountered  them,  not  only  without  a  murmur,  but  even  with 
a  cheerfulness  to  Avhich  she  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger.  The 
steadiness  of  her  onward  march,  her  imrepining  patience,  and  the 
gentle  solicitude  with  Avhich  she  turned  the  thoughts  of  her  com¬ 
panions  from  herself,  and  forbade  the  supposition  that  her  poAvers 
were  over-taxed,  showed  hoAV  deeply  her  feelings  Avere  engaged  in 
her  enterprise,  aud  Iioav  maturely  her  mind  had  taken  its  resolu¬ 
tion. 

“  One  never  Avould  have  guessed,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  towards  the 
close  of  the  second  day  after  they  had  entered  North  Carolina, 

“  that  a  lady  so  daintily  nursed  as  you  Avas  at  home.  Mistress 
Mildred,  could  have  ever  borne  this  here  roughing  of  it  through 
these  piney  Avoods.  But  I  have  made  one  observation.  Miss 
Lindsay,  that  no  one  can  tell  Avhat  they  are  fit  for  till  they  are 
tried  ;  and  on  the  back  of  that  I  have  another,  that  when  there’s  a 
great  stir  that  rouses  up  a  Avhole  country,  it  don’t  much  signify 
whether  they  are  man  or  woman,  they  all  get  roused  alike.  ’Pan 


42G 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


my  word,  ma’am,  I  have  seen  men — who  think  themselves  sodgers 
too — that  would  be  onwilling  to  trust  themselves  at  this  time  o’ 
year  through  such  a  dried  up  piece  of  pine  barren  as  we  have  been 
travelling  over  for  two  days  past.” 

“  You  remember  the  fable  of  the  willow  and  the  oak,  Mr.  Eobin- 
son,”  replied  Mildred,  smiling ;  “  the  storm  may  bring  down  the 
sturdy  tree,  but  the  supple  shrub  will  bend  before  it  without 
breaking.” 

“  I’m  not  much  given  to  religious  takings-on,”  said  the  sergeant, 
“  but  sometimes  a  notion  comes  into  my  head  that  looks  a  little 
that  way,  and  that  is,  when  God  appoints  a  thing  to  be  done,  he 
gives  them  that’s  to  do  it  all  the  wherewithals.  Now,  as  Major 
Butler  is  a  good  man  and  a  brave  sodger — God  bless  him ! — it 
does  seem  right  that  you.  Mistress  Lindsay, — who,  I  take  on  me  to 
understand  enough  of  your  consarns  and  his’n,  without  offence,  to 
say  has  a  leaning  towards  the  major, — I  say  it  does  seem  right  and 
natural  that  you  should  lend  a  hand  to  help  him  out  of  tribulation  ; 
and  so  you  see  the  cause  being  a  good  cause,  the  Lord  has  given 
you  both  wisdom  and  strength  to  do  what  is  right.” 

“We  owe,  sergeant,  a  duty  to  our  country;  and  we  serve  God 
and  our  country  both,  when  we  strengthen  the  hands  of  its 
defenders.” 

“  That’s  a  valiant  speech,  young  lady,  and  it’s  a  noble  speech,” 
said  Horse  Shoe,  with  an  earnest  emphasis.  “  I  have  often  told 
the  major  that  the  women  of  this  country  had  as  honest  thoughts 
about  this  here  war,  and  was  as  warm  for  our  cause  as  the  men ; 
and  some  of  them,  perhaps,  a  little  warmer.  They  could  be  pitted 
against  the  women  of  any  quarter  of  the  aqueous  globe,  in  bearing 
and  forbearing  both,  when  it  is  for  the  good  of  the  country.” 

“  Henry  is  asleep  on  his  horse,”  said  Mildred,  looking  at  her 
brother,  who  now,  jaded  and  worn  with  the  effort  of  travel,  was 
nodding  and  dropping  his  head  forward,  and  almost  losing  his  seat. 
“  What,  Henry,  brother !”  she  added,  loud  enough  to  rouse  up  the 
young  horseman.  “  My  trusty  cavalier,  are  you  going  to  fall  from 
your  horse  ?  Where  is  all  that  boasted  glorification  upon  which 
you  were  disposed  to  be  so  eloquent  only  a  week  ago  ?  I  thought 
a  man  on  horseback  was  naturally  proud :  I  fear  it  was  only  on 
b'  “^ay  occasions  you  meant,  Henry.  Hav’n’t  you  a  word  for  a 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


427 


sunny  day  and  a  dry  journey  ^  You  lag  more  like  a  miller’s  boy 
with  his  bag  of  meal,  than  a  young  soldier  setting  out  on  his 
adventures.” 

“  Ah,  sister,”  said  Henry,  waking  up,  “  this  is  nothing  but  pine 
— pine — and  sand,  without  end.  There  is  no  game  in  the  woods 
to  keep  a  man  on  the  look-out,  except  here  and  there  a  herd  of 
wild  hogs,  that  snort  and  run  from  us,  like  a  squadron  of  cavalry, 
with  their  bristles  set  up  on  their  backs  as  fierce  as  the  back  fin  of 
a  sunfish.  There  is  not  even  grass  to  look  at :  you  might  see  a 
black  snake  running  half  a  mile  amongst  the  trees.  And  then 
there  are  such  gi-eat  patches  of  burnt  timber,  every  trunk  staring 
right  at  you,  as  black  as  thunder.  I’m  tired  of  it  all — I  want  to 
see  the  green  fields  again.’* 

“  And,  in  truth,  brother,  so  do  I :  but  not  until  we  can  bring 
meiTy  faces  to  look  upon  them.  How  far  are  we  from  Tar- 
borough  ?” 

“We  should  be  drawing  nigh  to  the  town,”  replied  Horse  Shoe, 
“  for  you  may  see  that  we  shall  soon  be  out  of  these  woods,  by  the 
signs  of  open  country  ahead.  The  last  squad  of  sodgers  that 
passed  us,  said  that  when  we  came  to  the  farms,  we  shouldn’t  be 
more  than  five  miles  from  the  town,  and  the  sun  isn’t  above  an 
hour  high.” 

“  In  the  hope  of  being  soon  housed,  then,  Mr.  Robinson,  I  may 
confess  to  you  I  am  somewhat  weary ;  but  a  good  night’s  rest  will 
put  me -in  fair  condition  for  to-moiTOw’s  ride  again.” 

After  the  lapse  of  an  hour,  the  party  were  safely  sheltered  in  a 
tolerably  comfortable  inn  at  the.  village :  and  Mildred,  aided  by  the 
sedulous  care  of  Henry,  found  herself  well  bestowed  in  the  best 
chamber  of  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XL, 


From  Tarborough  our  travellers  continued  tbeir  route  towards 
the  Pedee,  by  the  main  road  which  led  through  Cross  creek,  a 
small  hamlet  on  Cape  Fear  river,  near  the  site  of  the  present  town 
of  Fayette\dlle.  The  general  features  of  the  country  were  even 
more  forbidding  than  those  I  have  already  described  as  character¬ 
istic  of  this  portion  of  North  Carolma.  Even  to  the  present  day, 
cultivation  has  done  but  little  to  cheer  up  the  natural  desolation  of 
those,  tracts  of  wilderness  which  lie  between  the  rivers.  But  at  the 
early  period  to  which  the  events  I  have  been  detailing  have  refer¬ 
ence,  the  journey  undertaken  by  our  little  caravan  might  be  com¬ 
pared  to  that  which  is  now  frequently  made  through  the  more 
southern  extremity  of  the  Union,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  an  attempt  seldom  essayed  by  a  female,  and  sufficiently 
trying  to  the  hardihood  of  the  stoutest  travellers.  The  forethought 
and  attention  of  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,  however,  contributed  to 
alleviate  the  pains  of  the  enterprise,  and  to  enable  Mildred  to  over¬ 
come  its  difficulties. 

In  the  present  alarmed  and  excited  state  of  this  province,  the 
party  were  less  liable  to  interruption  in  this  secluded  and  destitute 
section  of  the  country,  than  they  might  have  been,  had  they  chosen 
a  lower  and  more  populous  district;  and  the  consciousness  that 
every  day’s  perseverance  brought  them  nearer  to  the  ultimate  term 
of  their  journey,  gave  new  rigor,  at  least,  to  Mildred’s  capacity  to 
endure  the  privations  to  which  she  was  exposed.  But  few  vestiges 
of  the  war  yet  occurred  to  their  view.  The  great  wilderness,  like 
the  gi-eat  ocean,  retains  no  traces  of  the  passage  of  hostile  bodies. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  the  signs  of  a  woodland  encampment  were 
visible  in  the  midst  of  the  forest,  on  the  margin  of  some  sluggish 
brook  or  around  a  sylvan  fountain,  where  the  impression  of  recent 
hoof-prints,  the  scattered  fragments  of  brushwood  cut  for  tempo¬ 
rary  shelter,  and  the  still  smouldering  ashes  of  camp  fires,  showed 

428 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


429 


that  masses  of  men  had  been  in  motion.  The  deer  fled,  too,  with 
a  more  frightened  bound  towards  their  coverts,  as  if  lately  alarmed 
by  the  pursuit  of  the  huntsman ;  but  the  images  of  devastation, 
which  are  associated  with  the  horrid  front  of  war  in  the  mind  of 
all  familiar  with  its  ravage,  were  absent.  The  eternal,  leafy  shade 
high  arching  over  the  heads  of  the  wayfarers,  furnished  no  object 
for  human  vengeance ;  and  it  still  sighed  in  the  fanning  of  the 
breeze,  as  of  old  it  sighed  before  man  claimed  dominion  in  the  soil 
it  sheltered.  A  far  difterent  scene  was  shortly  to  be  looked  upon 
by  our  venturesome  friends. 

Several  days  had  again  passed  by,  for  the  journey  through  the 
wilderness  had  been  slowly  prosecuted,  when  Robinson,  towards 
the  approach  of  evening,  announced  to  Mildred  his  conjecture  that 
they  were  not  far  off  the  Pedee.  The  banks  of  this  river  had 
been  the  scene  of  frequent  hostilities,  and  the  war  that  had  been 
carried  on  here  was  of  the  most  ruthless  kind.  The  river  is  cha¬ 
racterized  by  a  broad,  deep,  and  quiet  stream,  begirt  with  a  vegeta¬ 
tion  of  exceeding  luxuriance.  Its  periodical  overflow  seems  to  have 
poured  out  upon  its  margin  a  soil  of  inexhaustible  richness,  that, 
for  a  mile  or  two  on  either  side,  forms  a  striking  contrast  with  the 
low,  barren  sand-hills  that  hem  in  the  river  plain.  Along  this 
tract  of  level  border,  all  the  way  to  the  Atlantic,  are  found,  as  is 
usually  the  case  throughout  the  Carolinas,  the  large  plantations 
of  opulent  gentlemen,  who,  by  the  cultivation  of  rice  and  cotton, 
turn  the  fertility  of  the  soil  to  the  best  account.  These  possessions, 
presenting  the  most  assailable  points  to  an  enemy,  and,  indeed, 
almost  the  only  ones  in  which  the  great  interests  of  the  province 
might  be  wounded,  were,  during  the  whole  of  that  bloody  struggle 
which  distinguished  the  days  of  the  “  Tory  Ascendency,”  the  constant 
objects  of  attack;  and  here  the  war  was  waged  with  a  vindictive 
malignity,  on  the  part  of  the  British  and  Tory  partisans,  that  is 
scarcely  surpassed  in  the  history  of  ci\nl  broils.  The  finest  estates 
were  sacked,  the  dwellings  burnt,  and  the  property  destroyed  with 
unsparing  rage.  The  men  were  dragged  from  their  houses  and 
hung,  the  women  and  children  turned  without  food  or  raiment  into 
the  wilderness,  and  political  vengeance  seemed  to  gorge  itself  to 
gluttony  upon  its  own  rapine. 

The  thoughts  of  Robinson  had  been,  for  some  days  past,  running 


430  HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON.^ 

upon  the  probable  difficulties  that  might  attend  the  guise  in  which 
he  was  now  about  to  return  to  his  native  province.  This  was  a  sub¬ 
ject  of  some  concern,  since  he  ran  a  risk  of  being  compelled  either 
to  desert  his  charge,  or  to  bring  his  companions  into  jeopardy, 
amongst  the  many  persons  of  both  armies  who  were,  at  least  by 
report,  acquainted  with  his  name  and  his  military  connexions. 
He  had  explained  to  Mildred  the  necessity  of  his  appearing  in 
some  definite  character,  associated  with  the  object  of  her  journey, 
and  of  which,  upon  emergency,  he  might  claim  the  benefit  to 
retain  his  post  near  her.  This  matter  was  summarily  settled  by 
Henry. 

“  In  general,  Mr.  Horse  Shoe,  you  can  call  yourself  Stephen 
Foster :  you  know  Steve ;  and  you  can  say  that  you  ai-e  Mr. 
Philip  Lindsay’s  gardener.  Isaac,  here,  can  let  you  enough  into 
the  craft  to  pass  muster,  if  any  of  them  should  take  it  into  their 
heads  to  examine  you.  Mind  that,  Isaac  :  and  recollect,  old  fel¬ 
low,  you  are  only  sister  Mildred’s  waiting  man.” 

.  “Sartainly,  master,”  replied  Isaac. 

“  And  sergeant.  I’ll  tell  you  aU  about  Steve  ;  so  that  you  can 
get  your  lesson  by  heart.  You  have  a  wife  and  five  children — 
remember  that.  I’ll  give  you  all  their  names  by-and-by.” 

“  Thanks  to  the  marcies  of  God,  that  ar’n’t  my  misfortune  yet,” 
said  Horse  Shoe,  laughing ;  “  but,  Mr.  Henry,  I  have  got  con¬ 
science  enough  now  for  any  lie  that  can  be  invented.  The  major 
and  me  talked  that  thing  over,  and  he’s  of  opinion  that  lying,  in 
an  enemy’s  country,  is  not  forbidden  in  the  scriptures.  And  I 
have  beam  the  preacher  say  that  Rahab,  who  was  not  a  woman 
of  good  fame  no  how,  yet  she  was  excused  by  the  Lord  for  telling 
the  king  of  Jericho  a  most  thumping  lie,  consarning  her  not  knowing 
what  had  become  of  the  two  men  that  Joshua,  the  judge  of  Israel, 
who  was  a  general  besides,  had  sent  into  the  town  to  reconnoitre  ; 
which  was  a  strong  case.  Mister  Henry,  seeing  that  Rahab,  the 
harlot,  was  a  taking  of  sides  against  her  own  people.  So,  I  Iffie 
your  plan  and  I’ll  stick  by  it.” 

This  being  agreed  upon,  it  became  one  of  the  amusements  of 
the  road-side  to  put  the  sergeant  through  his  catechism,  which 
was  designed  to  make  him  familiar  with  the  traits  of  private  his¬ 
tory  relating  to  the  Dove  Cote  and  its  appurtenances,  that  he 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


431 


might  thereby  maintain  his  identity,  in  the  event  of  a  close  inves¬ 
tigation.  Horse  Shoe  was  but  an  awkward  scholar  in  this  school 
of  disguise,  and  gave  Henry  sufficient  employment  to  keep  Tiim  in 
the  path  of  probability ;  and,  indeed,  the  young  teacher  himself 
found  it  difficult  to  maintain  an  exact  verisimilitude  in  the  part 
which  it  was  his  own  province  to  play  in  this  deception. 

On  the  evening  to  which  we  have  alluded,  the  sergeant,  finding 
himself  within  a  short  distance  of  the  district  of  country  in  which 
he  was  almost  certain  to  encounter  parties  of  both  friends  and  foes, 
adopted  a  greater  degree  of  circumspection  than  he  had  hitherto 
deemed  it  necessary  to  observe.  His  purpose  was  to  halt  upon 
the  borders  of  the  forest,  and  endeavor  to  obtain  accurate  informa¬ 
tion  of  the  state  of  affairs  along  the  river,  before  he  entered  upon 
this  dangerous  ground.  Like  a  soldier  who  had  a  rich  treasure  to 
guard,  he  was  determined  to  run  no  hazard  that  might  be  avoided, 
in  the  safe  conduct  of  the  lady  in  whose  service  he  was  enlisted. 
In  accordance  with  this  Caution,  he  directed  the  cavalcade  to  move 
onward  at  a  moderate  walk,  in  order  that  they  might  not  reach 
the  limit  of  the  woodland  before  the  dusk  of  the  evening ;  and  also 
in  the  hope  of  finding  there  some  habitation  where  they  might 
pass  the  night.  They  had  not  advanced  far  in  this  manner  before 
the  sergeant  descried,  at  some  distance  ahead,  a  small  log  hut 
standing  by  the  road  side,  which,  by  the  smoke  that  issued 
from  the  chimney,  he  perceived  to  be  inhabited.  Upon  this  dis¬ 
covery,  he  ordered  the  party  to  stop  and  await  his  return.  Then 
giving  spurs  to  his  horse  he  galloped  forward,  and,  after  a  short 
interval  of  absence,  returned,  made  a  favorable  report  of  his  recon- 
noissance,  and  conducted  his  companions  to  the  house. 

The  little  cabin  to  which  Mildred  was  thus  introduced  was  the 
homestead  of  an  honest  Whig  soldier,  by  the  name  of  Wingate,  who 
was  now  in  service,  under  the  command  of  one  of  the  most  gallant 
partisans  that  any  country  ever  produced,  Francis  ^rion,  then 
recently  promoted  to  the  rank  of  a  brigadier.  The  inmates  were 
the  soldier’s  family,  consisting  of  a  young  woman  and  a  number 
of  small  children,  all  demonstrating  by  their  appearance  a  condi¬ 
tion  of  exceedingly  limited  comfort.  The  hut  contained  no  more 
than  two  rooms,  which  exhibited  but  a  scanty  supply  of  the  mean¬ 
est  furniture.  The  forest  had  been  cleared  for  the  space  of  a  few 


432 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


acres  around  tire  dwelling,  and  these  were  occupied  by  a  small 
garden  or  vegetable  patch,  meagrely  stocked  with  scattered  and 
half  parched  plants  ;  and  by  a  cornfield,"  along  the  skirts  of  which 
some  lean  hogs  were  seen  groping  with  a  felonious  stealthiness. 
A  shed,  in  the  same  inclosure,  formed  a  rendezvous  for  a  few  half- 
starved  cattle,  that  probably  obtained  their  principal  but  slender 
support  from  the  neighboring  wood.  Add  to  these  a  troop  of 
fowls,  that  were  now  at  roost  upon  one  of  the  trees  hard  by,  and 
we  have,  probably,  a  tolerably  correct  inventory  of  the  worldly 
goods  of  this  little  family. 

The  woman  of  the  house  was  kind  and  hospitable,  and  her 
attentions  were  in  no  small  degree  quickened  by  the  application  of 
a  few  pieces  of  money  which  Mildred  insisted  upon  her  receiving — 
much  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  dame’s  self-possession — the  boon 
consisting  of  hard  coin,  to  an  amount  of  which,  perhaps,  she  had 
never  before  been  mistrees. 

Mildred  was  exceedingly  fatigued,  and  it  was  an  object  of  early 
consideration  to  furnish  her  the  means  of  rest.  Our  hostess, 
assisted  by  old  Isaac,  and  officiously  but  awkwardly  superintended 
by  Horse  Shoe,  began  her  preparations  for  supper,  to  the  abun¬ 
dance  of  which  the  provident  sergeant  was  enabled  to  contribute 
some  useful  elements  from  his  wallet.  In  one  of  the  apartments 
of  the  hut,  a  shock-bed  was  spread  for  the  lady,  and  by  the 
assistance  of  her  cloak  and  some  other  commodities  which  had 
been  provided  as  part  of  her  travelling  gear,  she  was  supplied  with 
a  couch  that  formed  no  ill  exchange  for  the  weariness  of  her  long- 
inhabited  saddle.  Use  and  necessity  are  kind  nursing-mothers  to 
our  nature,  and  do  not  often  fail  to  endow  us  with  the  qualities 
proper  to  the  fortune  they  shape  out  for  us.  This  was  not  Mildred’s 
first  experience  of  a  homely  lodging  since  she  left  the  Dove  Cote ; 
and,  as  privation  and  toil  have  a  faculty  to  convert  the  rough 
pallet  of  the  peasant  into  a  bed  of  down,  she  hailed  the  present 
prospect  of  rest  with  a  contented  and  grateful  spirit. 

The  supper  being  dispatched,  our  lady  was  left  alone  with  her 
hostess,  to  seek  the  repose  of  which  she  stood  so  much  in  need. 

The  sergeant  now  set  about  making  provision  for  the  rest  of  his 
party.  This  was  done  by  erecting  a  shelter  beneath  one  of  the 
trees  of  the  forest,  opposite  to  the  door  of  the  cabin.  It  was  com- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


433 


posed  of  a  few  boughs  stacked  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  suflS- 
cieutly  covered  with  leaves  to  turn  aside  any  rain  that  might 
happen  to  fall.  Under  this  cover  Horse  Shoe  appointed  that  he 
and  his  comrades  should  pass  the  night,  enjoining  them  to  keep  a 
regular  watch  for  the  security  of  the  lady,  whose  welfare  was  now 
the  object  of  his  most  sedulous  attention.  All  these  preparations 
were  made  with  the  exactness  of  military  rule,  and  with  a  skill 
that  greatly  delighted  Henry. 

The  long  summer  twilight  had  faded  away.  Mildred  had  been, 
from  an  early  period,  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  profound  slumber,  and 
Henry  and  his  negro  ally  were  seated  at  the  front  of  their  sylvan 
tent.  The  sergeant  had  lighted  his  pipe,  and  now,  taking  his  seat 
upon  a  log  that  lay  near  his  post,  he  began  to  smoke  in  good 
earnest,  with  a  mind  as  free  from  anxiety  as  if  universal  peace  pre¬ 
vailed.  In  the  sedate  enjoyment  of  this  luxury,  he  fell  into  a 
descant  on  matters  and  things,  interlarded  with  long  and  strange 
stories  of  his  own  singular  adventures,  which  he  told  to  the  no 
small  edification  and  amusement  of  Henry  and  the  negi-o. 

The  habits  of  the  experienced  soldier  were  curiously  illustrated 
in  the  thoughtful  and  sober  foresight  with  which  Robinson  adapted 
his  plans  to  the  exigencies  of  his  condition,  and  then  in  the  imper¬ 
turbable  light-heartedness  with  which,  after  his  measures  of  safety 
were  taken,  he  waited  the  progress  of  events.  His  watchfulness 
seemed  to  be  an  instinct,  engendered  by  a  familiarity  with  danger, 
whilst  the  steady  and  mirthful  tone  of  his  mind  was  an  attribute 
that  never  gave  way  to  the  inroads  of  care.  He  was  the  same 
composed  and  self-possessed  being  in  a  besieged  garrison,  in  the 
moment  of  a  threatened  escalade,  as  amongst  his  cronies  by  a 
winter  fire-side. 

“  In  this  here  starlight.  Mister  Henry,”  he  said,  after  he  had 
puffed  out  two  or  three  charges  of  his  pipe,  “  I  can’t  see  your  eyes, 
but  by  your  yawning,  I  judge  you  are  a  little  sleepy.  Take  my 
advice  and  turn  in.  A  sodger  ought  to  snatch  his  rest  when  he  can 
get  it.  ni  keep  guai-d  over  our  young  lady  ;  the  Lord  protect  her, 
for  a  most  an  elegant  and  oncommon  jnecious  young  creature ! 
Fling  your  great  coat  upon  the  leaves,  and  go  at  it,  my  lad,  like  a 
good  fellow.” 

“  If  I  was  at  home  Mr.  Horse  Shoe,  at  the  Dove  Cote,  I  could 

19 


484 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


sit  up  all  night  listening  to  your  stories ;  but  I  believe  I  am 
bewitched  to-night,  for  my  eyelids,  this  hour  past,  have  been  snap¬ 
ping  like  rat  traps.  So,  I’ll  just  stretch  out  for  an  hour  or  so,  and 
then  get  up  and  take  my  turn  at  the  guard.” 

“  Don’t  trouble  your  head  about  watching,”  replied  Horse  Shoe, 
“  you  are  not  old  enough  for  that  yet.  At  your  time  of  life,  Mr. 
Lindsay,  a  good  night’s  rest  is  the  best  part  of  a  ration.  And  to¬ 
morrow,  if  I’m  not  mistaken,  you  will  have  need  of  all  the  strength 
you  can  muster  to-night.  As  for  me,  it  isn’t  much  account  whether 
I’m  asleep  or  awake.” 

“  Not  so  fast,  sergeant,”  rejoined  the  youth,  “  I’m  an  older  soldier 
than  you  take  me  for  ;  Stephen  and  I  have  watched  many  a  night 
for  racoons.  No,  no.  I’ll  have  my  turn  towards  morning.  So,  you 
and  Isaac  take  the  first  part  of  the  night  between  you,  and  if  any¬ 
thing  should  happen,  call  me-;  I’m  one  of  your  minute  men.  So 
good  night.  My  horse  trots  harder  than  I  thought  he  did.” 

It  was  not  long  before  our  boasted  minute  man  was  locked  up  in 
a  spell  apparently  as  profoimd  as  that  which  the  legend  afiirms  as¬ 
sailed  the  seven  sleepers  :  and  Isaac,  not  even  waiting  for  the  good 
example  of  his  master,  had  already  sunk  upon  the  ground,  with 
that  facility  which  distinguishes  his  race,  the  most  uncaring  and 
happiest  of  mortals. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


Our  fortress  is  the  good  green  wood. 
Our  tent  the  cypress  tree, 

We  know  the  forest  round  us 
As  seamen  know  the  sea. 

We  know  its  walls  of  thorny  vines. 
Its  glades  of  reedy  grass. 

Its  safe  and  silent  islands 
Within  the  dark  morass. — Bryant. 


The  faithful  Horse  Shoe  being  thus  left  to  himself,  replenished 
his  pipe,  and,  taking  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  paced  to  and  fro  upon 
the  border  of  the  road,  holding  communion  with  his  own  thoughts^ 
carefully  weighing  the  probabilities  connected  with  his  present  sin¬ 
gular  expedition,  and  revolving,  after  his  own  fashion,  the  fortunes 
of  Arthur  Butler  and  Mildred  Lindsay. 

It  was  within  an  hour  of  midnight,  when  the  sergeant’s  medi¬ 
tations  were  interrupted  by  the  tramp  of  a  horse  approaching  the_^ 
hut  at  a  gallop.  But  a  few  moments  elapsed  before  a  traveller, 
who,  in  the  star-light.  Horse  Shoe  could  discern  to  be  armed,  drew 
up  his  rein  immediately  at  the  door  of  the  dwelling,  against  which 
he  struck  several  blows  with  his  weapon,  calling  out  loudly  at  the 
same  time — 

“  Mistress  Wingate — for  God’s  sake,  open  your  door  quickly ! 

I  have  news  to  tell  you,  good  woman.” 

“  In  the  name  of  mercy  !  who  are  you  ?”  exclaimed  the  voice 
of  the  dame  within,  whilst  a  note  of  alarm  was  also  heard  from  her 
fellow-lodger. 

“  What  do  you  mean  by  this  racket  and  clatter  ?”  demanded 
Horse  Shoe,  in  the  midst  of  the  uproar,  at  the  same  time  laying 
his  hand  upon  the  stranger’s  bridle  rein.  “  What  brings  you  here, 
sir  ? — stand  back  ;  the  women  in  that  house  are  under  my  charge, 
and  I  won’t  have  them  disturbed.” 


435 


436 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  If  yon  are  a  friend  to  Jlistress  Wingate,”  said  the  horseman, 
sternly,  “  speak  the  word ;  if  an  enemy,  I  will  shiver  your  skull 
with  the  butt  of  my  musket.” 

“  Don’t  he  rash,  good  fellow,”  replied  Horse  Shoe ;  “  I  take  it 
you  and  me  are  on  the  same  side.  What’s  afoot  that  you  stir  in 
such  a  hurry  ?” 

“  The  Tories  are  afoot — the  devil’s  afoot !  Open,  Mistress  Win¬ 
gate — open  to  Dick  Peyton  !” 

“  The  Lord  preserve  us  !”  ejaculated  the  mistress  of  the  hovel, 
as  she  opened  the  door  ;  “  Bloody  Spur,  is  it  you  ?  What  ill  luck 
brings  you  here  to-night  ?” 

“  A  gang  of  Tories,  Mistress  Wingate,  from  the  Black  River, 
under  that  cut-throat  Fanning,  crossed  Pedee  this  morning  at 
Powder’s  Lake.  They  have  been  thieving  and  burning  as  far  as 
Waggamaw,  and  are  now  on  the  road  home  by  the  upper  ferry. 
They  will  be  along  here  in  less  than  half  an  hour.  Your  husband, 
Bob  Wingate,  and  myself,  were  sent  out  by  General  Marion  this 
morning,  to  reconnoitre  the  roads.  We  fell  in  with  the  ruffians, 
after  sun-set,  below  Lumberton,  and  have  tracked  them  up  here. 
Bob  has  got  a  pistol-shot  through  his  arm.  He  was  lucky  enough, 
however,  to  escape  their  clutches ;  but  believing  they  had  a  spite 
against  him,  and  would  ride  past  his  house  to-night,  he  told  me  to 
call  and  give  you  warning,  and  to  help  you  to  drive  the  cattle  back 
into  the  swamp.” 

“  How  many  mought  there  be,  friend  ?”  asked  Horse  Shoe, 
calmly. 

“  Between  two  and  three  hundred,  at  least,”  said  the  trooper ; 
“  we  counted  fifty  in  the  vanguard — those  that  followed  made  a 
long  column  of  march.  They  have  stolen-  a  good  many  horses  and 
cattle,  all  of  which  are  with  them,  and  several  prisoners.” 

“  "Wliat,  ho  ! — Isaac,  Henry  Lindsay  ;  fall  to,  and  saddle,  boys,” 
shouted  Horse  Shoe.  “  Miss  Mildred,  it  will  not  do  to  stand.  I 
am  sorry  to  break  in  upon  your  rest,  but  you  must  be  ready  to 
move  in  a  few  minutes.” 

Everything  about  the  hut  was  now  in  confusion.  Henry  and 
the  sergeant  were  equipping  the  horses,  whilst  Isaac  was  gathering 
up  the  baggage.  Bloody  Spur — to  adopt  the  rider’s  nom  de  guerre — 
had  dismounted,  and  was  busy  in  removing  the  few  articles  of  value 


HORBE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


437 


from  the  hut ;  the  mother  and  children,  meanwhile,  Avere  pouring 
forth  loud  lamentations. 

IMildred,  in  the  midst  of  this  scene  of  uproar,  hurriedly  made 
her  preparations  for  departure ;  and  whilst  she  Avas  yet  engaged  in 
this  care,  a  confused  murmur  was  heard,  at  some  distance  up  the 
road — and  the  rattle  of  sabres,  as  AA'ell  as  the  hoarse  A'oice  and 
abrupt  laughter  of  men,  announced  that  the  freebooters  Avere  at 
no  great  distance  from  the  dwelling. 

“  Merciful  heaven !”  exclaimed  Mildred,  giving  Avay  for  the 
first  time  to  her  fears ;  “  they  are  fast  approaching,  and  wo  shall  be 
captured.” 

“  Sister,”  said  Henry,  with  scarcely  less  alarm,  “  I  will  die  by 
your  side,  before  they  shall  hurt  a  hair  of  your  head.” 

Horse  Shoe,  Avho  at  this  moment  Avas  tightening  the  girths 
of  Mildred’s  saddle,  paused  for  an  instant  to  listen,  and  then  said : 

“  The  wind  is  north-east,  young  lady,  and  the  voice  sounds  far 
to-night.  One  could  hardly  expect  you  to  be  cool  Avhen  one  of 
these  night-frays  is  coming  on,  but  there’s  no  occasion  to  be  fright¬ 
ened.  Now,  ma’am,  if  you  please.  I’ll  heaA^e  you  into  your  seat. 
There,”  continued  the  sergeant,  setting  Mildred  upon  her  horse, 
“  you  have  got  four  good  legs  under  you,  and  by  a  fair  use  of  them 
will  be  as  safe  as  a  crowned  king.  Mister  Henry,  mount,  and  ride 
with  your  sister  sloAvly  down  the  road,  till  I  overtake  you.” 

Henry  obeyed  the  order. 

“Is  the  portmanteau  and  the  rest  of  the  baggage  all  safe, Isaac? 
Don’t  be  flurried,  you  old  sinner,  but  look  about  you,  before  you 
start  off.” 

“  All  safe,”  replied  the  negro. 

“  Up  and  follow  your  master,  then.  Hark  you,  Mr.  Bloody 
Spur,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  as  Isaac  rode  off,  to  the  trooper,^  who  Avas 
still  actiA'ely  employed  in  turning  the  cattle  loose  from  the  inclo¬ 
sure,  “  Avhat  is  the  best  road  hereabouts  for  my  squad  to  keep  out 
of  the  Avay  of  these  bullies  ?” 

“  About  a  mile  from  here,  take  a  road  that  strikes  into  the 
woods,  upon  your  right  hand,”  ansAvered  the  trooper  hastily,  “  it 
will  lead  you  up  the  river  to  the  falls  of  Pedee.  K  you’snnuid 
meet  any  of  Marion’s  men,  tell  them  what  you  have  seen  ;  and  say 
Dick  Peyton  will  be  along  close  after  you.” 


438 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Wliere  is  Marion  ?”  asked  the  sergeant,  mounting  his  hoim 

“  What  man  that  knows  Frank  Marion  could  ever  answer  that 
question  ?”  said  the  trooper.  “  He  is  everywhere,  Mend.  But  you 
have  no  time  to  lose :  he  off.” 

As  Bloody  Spiu-  said  this,  he  disappeared,  driving  the  cattle  be¬ 
fore  him ;  whilst  the  mother,  laden  vnth  an  infant  and  as  many 
pieces  of  furniture  as  she  could  carry,  and  followed  by  her  terrified 
children,  fled  towards  the  neighboring  thicket. 

Horse  Shoe  in  a  few  moments  overtook  his  companions,  and, 
urging  them  forward  at  a  rapid  flight,  soon  reached  the  diverging 
road,  along  which  they  journeyed  with  imahated  speed  for  upwards 
of  a  mile. 

“  How  do  you  bear  it,  sister  ?”  asked  Henry,  with  concern. 

“Ah,  brother,  with  a  sore  heart  to  be  made  so  painfully  ac¬ 
quainted  with  these  frightful  scenes.  I  lose  all  thought  of  my  own 
annoyance,  in  seeing  the  calamities  that  are  heaped  upon  the  un¬ 
offending  family  of  a  man  who  dares  to  draw  his  sword  for  his 
country.” 

“Yes,  ma’am,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  gravely,  “these  incamivorous 
devils  have  broken  the  rest  of  many  a  good  woman  in  the  Oarolinas, 
before  they  routed  you  out  to-night,  ma’am.  But  it  is  one  of  God’s 
marcies  to  see  how  you  keep  up  under  it.” 

“  Mine’s  a  triflmg  grievance,  good  sergeant :  I  lose  but  a  little 
repose :  that  poor  mother  flies  to  save  her  children,  uncertain,  per¬ 
haps,  of  to-moiTOw’s  subsistence  ;  and  her  husband’s  life  is  in  daily 
peril.  It  is  a  sad  lot.  Yet  truly,”  added  Mildred  with  a 'sigh, 
“  mine  is  scarcely  better.  Gracious  heaven  !”  she  exclaimed,  look¬ 
ing  behind  her,  “  they  have  set  fire  to  the  dwelling !” 

In  the  quarter  to  which  she  directed  her  eyes,  the  horizon  was 
already  illuminated  "with  the  blaze  of  Wingate’s  hut.  The  light 
grew  brighter  for  a  short  interval,  and  brought  into  bold  relief 
upon  the  sky,  the  taU,  dark  forms  of  the  stately  pines  of  which  the 
forest  was  composed. 

“  They  are  fools  as  well  as  -villains,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  -svith  an 
angry  vehemence ;  “  they  have  had  liquor  to-night,  or  they  would 
hardly  kindle  up  a  blaze  which  should  rouse  every  Whig  on  Pedee 
to  track  them  like  hounds.  It  would  be  sport  worth  riding  to  look 
at,  if  Marion  should  get  a  glimpse  of  that  fire.  But  these  wolves 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


439 


have  grown  obstropolous  ever  since  Horatio  Gates  made  his  fox-paw 
at  Camden.” 

“  Oh,  it  is  a  most  savage  war,”  said  Mildred,  “  that  roots  up  the 
humble  hearth,  and  fires  the  lowly  roof,  where  none  but  defenceless 
women  and  children  abide.  I  shudder  to  think  of  such  wanton 
barbarity.” 

“  There’s  the  thing.  Miss  Lindsay,  that  turns  all  our  blood  bitter, 
Man  to  man  is  fair  game,  all  the  world  over :  but  this  ere  stealing 
of  cattle,  and  burning  of  houses,  and  even  cutting  up  by  the  roots 
the  plants  of  the  ’arth,  and  toning  of  women  and  childi'en  naked 
into  the  swamps,  in  the  dead  of  night !  it’s  a  sorry  business  to 
tell  of  a  Christian  people,  and  a  cowardly  business  for  a  nation  that’s 
a  boasting  of  its  bravery.” 

The  light  of  the  conflagration  had  soon  died  away,  and  our 
wanderei-s  pursued  their  solitary  road  in  darkness,  ignorant  of  the 
countiy  through  which  they  passed,  and  uncertain  of  the  point  to 
which  they  tended.  A  full  hour  had  gone  by  in  this  state  of  sus¬ 
pense,  and  Robinson  had  once  more  resolved  to  make  a  halt,  and 
encamp  his  party  in  the  woods.  Before,  however,  he  could  put  this 
design  into  execution,  he  was  unexpectedly  challenged,  from  the 
road-side,  with  the  military  demand  of — “  Who  goes  there  ?” 

“  Ti-avellers,”  was  the  reply, 

“  Where  do  you  come  from,  and  where  are  you  going  ?” 

“  The  first  question  I_can  answer,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  “  and  that  is, 
from  Old  Virginny,  a  fortnight  ago,  but,  to-night,  from  a  tolerable 
snug  lodging,  where  some  onmannerly  fellows  troubled  our  sleep. 
But  as  to  where  we’re  going,  it’s  more  likely  you  can  tell  that  for 
us.” 

“  You  are  saucy,  sir.” 

“  It’s  more  than  I  meant  to  be,”  replied  the  sergeant.  “  Mayhap 
you  mought  have  hearn  of  a  man  they  call  Bloody  Spur  ?” 

“  He  has  pricked  your  pillows  for  you — has  he  ?  Dick  Peyton 
is  good  at  that,”  said  a  second  questioner. 

“  Aha,  comrades,  I  understand  you  now,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  with 
alacrity.  “  Dick  Peyton  and  Bob  Wingate  both  belong  to  your 
party.  Am  I  right  ?  We  are  fiiends  to  Marion.” 

“  And  therefore  friends  to  us,”  said  the  patrole.  “  Your  name, 
sir,  and  the  number  you  have  in  company  3” 


y 


440  HOKSfi  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

“  Take  us  to  the  general,  and  we  will  answer  that,”  replied 
Horse  Shoe.  “  The  Tories  have  set  upon  Wingate’s  house  and  burnt 
it  to  the  ground.  It’s  like  we  may  be  able  to  tell  something  worth 
hearing  at  head-quarters.  Your  man  Bloody  Spur  gave  us  in 
charge  to  report  him,  and  to  say  that  he  would  soon  follow  upon 
our  track.  I  wonder  that  he  isn’t  here  before  now.” 

“  I  will  remain,”  said  one  of  the  soldiers  to  his  companion  ;  “  you 
shall  take  charge  of  the  travellers.” 

The  trooper  accordingly  turned  his  horse’s  head  and  commanded 
Horse  Shoe  and  his  party  to  follow. 

The  scout  conducted  our  adventurei's  along  a  by-road  that 
led  round  the  head  of  a  marsh,  and  through  several  thickets 
which,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  were  penetrated  with  gi-eat 
diflSculty ;  during  this  ride  he  interrogated  Horse  Shoe  as  to  the 
events  of  the  late  inroad  of  the  Tories.  He  and  his  comrade  had 
been  stationed  upon  the  path  where  the  sergeant  encountered 
them,  to  direct  the  out-riding  parties  of  his  corps  to  the  spot  of 
Marion’s  encampment,  the  policy  of  this  wary  olBcer  being  to  shift 
his  station  so  frequently  as  almost  equally  to  defy  the  search  of 
friend  and  foe.  Peyton  and  Wingate  were  both  expected ;  and  the 
trooper  who  remained  behind  only  waited  to  conduct  them  to  the 
commanding  oflBcer,  who  had,  since  the  disappearance  of  daylight, 
formed  a  bivouac  in  this  neighborhood.  Marion’s  custom  was  to 
order  his  reconnoitring  parties  to  return  to  him  by  designated 
roads,  where  videttes  were  directed  to  repair  in  order  to  inform  them 
of  his  position, — a  fact  which,  as  his  movements  were  accomplished 
with  wonderful  celerity  and  secresy,  they  were  generally  unable  to 
ascertain  in  any  other  way. 

At  length,  emerging  from  the  thicket,  and  crossing  what  seemed, 
by  the  plash  of  the  horse’s  feet,  a  morass,  the  party,  under  the 
guidance  of  the  scout,  came  upon  a  piece  of  thinly-timbered  wood¬ 
land,  which,  rising  by  a  gentle  slope,  furnished  what  might  be 
called  an  island  of  dry  ground,  that  seemed  to  be  only  accessible 
by  crossing  the  circumjacent  swamp.  Upon  this  spot  were  en¬ 
camped,  in  the  rudest  form  of  the  bivouac,  a  party  of  cavalry,  which 
micrht  have  amounted  to  two  hundred  men.  Several  fires,  whose 

O 

ruddy  glare  had  been  discerned  for  the  last  half  mile  of  the  journey, 
were  blazing  forth  from  different  quarters  of  the  wood,  and  threw 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


441 


a  bold  and  sharp  light  upon  the  figures  of  men  and  horses,  impart¬ 
ing  a  feature  of  lively,  picturesque  beauty  to  the  scene.  The 
greater  portion  of  the  soldiers  were  stretched  beneath  the  trees, 
with  no  other  covering  than  the  leafy  bowers  above  them.  The 
horses  were  picketed  in  the  neighborhood  of  their  riders  ;  and  the 
confused  array  of  saddles,  sabres,  muskets,  rifles,  and  other  warlike  in¬ 
struments,  that  were  hung  upon  projecting  boughs,  or  leant  against 
the  trunks,  as  they  caught  the  flashes  of  the  frequent  fires,  seemed 
to  be  magnified  in  number  equal  to  the  furniture  of  thrice  the  force. 
Sentinels  were  seen  pacing  their  limits  on  the  outskirts  of  this 
company,  and  small  bodies  of  patroles  on  horseback  moved  across 
the  encampment  with  the  regularity  of  military  discipline.  Here 
and  there,  as  if  regardless  of  rest,  or  awaiting  some  soon-expected 
tour  of  duty,  small  knots  of  men  sat  together  amusing  themselves, 
by  torch-light,  at  cards ;  and,  more  appropriately,  others  had 
extended  their  torpid  frames  in  sleep  upon  their  grassy  pallets  and 
knapsack  pillows. 

“  We  have  seen  war  in  its  horrors,”  exclaimed  Mildred,  with  an 
involuntary  vivacity ;  “  and  hero  it  is  in  all  its  romance  !” 

“  Sister,  I  wish  you  were  at  home,”  said  Henry,  eagerly,  “  and 
Steve  and  I  had  the  Rangers  on  this  field  to-night.  I  would  under¬ 
take  to  command  a  picket  with  any  man  here  !” 

To  Horse  Shoe  these  were  familiar  scenes,  and  he  could  not  com¬ 
prehend  the  source  of  that  sudden  interest  which  had  so  vividly 
aroused  the  admiration  of  his  companions  ;  but  asking  the  guide 
to  conduct  them  immediately  to  General  Marion,  he  followed  the 
soldier  across  the  whole  extent  of  the  bivouac,  until  they  halted 
beneath  a  large  tree,  near  which  a  few  officers  were  assembled.* 
One  of  this  group  was  seated  on  the  ground  ;  and  close  by  him, 
planted  in  the  soil,  a  blazing  pine-faggot  flung  a  broad  light  upon 
a  saddle,  the  flap  of  which  the  officer  had  converted,  for  the  occa¬ 
sion,  into  a  writing-desk. 

“  Make  way  for  a  squad  of  travellers  picked  up  on  the  road  to¬ 
night,”  said  the  scout  in  a  loud  voice.  “  They  wish  to  see  General 
Marion.” 

In  a  moment  our  party  was  surrounded  by  the  officers ;  and 
Horse  Shoe,  unceremoniously  dismounting,  addressed  the  person 
nearest  to  him  : — 


19* 


442 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  A  lady,  sii’,  from  Virginia,  that  I  started  with  from  her  father’s 
house,  to  fetch  to  Carolina ;  but  who  has  been  most  audaciously 
unhoused  and  unbedded  in  the  very  middle  of  the  night  by  a  hell¬ 
ish  pack  of  Tories.” 

“  My  name  is  Lindsay,  sir,”  said  Henry,  riding  to  the  front ; 
“  my  sister  and  myself  were  travelling  south,  and  have  been  obliged 
to  fly,  to-night,  before  a  detachment  of  horse-stealers.” 

“  From  Bob  Wingate’s,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  “  as  I  should  judge, 
some  six  miles  back.  I  want  to  report  to  General  Marion  :  the 
lady,  likewise,  is  tired,  as  she  has  good  right  to  be.” 

The  officer  to  whom  this  was  addressed,  directed  a  soldier  to 
seek  General  Marion,  and  then  approaching  Mildred,  said  : 

“  Madam,  we  can  promise  but  little  accommodation  suitable  to  a 
lady  :  the  greenwood  tree  is  but  an  uncouth  resting-place  :  but 
what  we  can  supply  shall  be  heartily  at  your  service.” 

“  I  feel  sufficiently  thankful,”  replied  Mildred,  “  to  know  that  I 
am  in  the  hands  of  friends.” 

“  Sister,  alight,”  said  Henry,  who  now  stood  beside  her  stirrup, 
and  offered  his  hand  :  and  in  a  moment  Mildred  was  on  her  feet. 

The  officer  then  conducted  her  to  a  bank,  upon  which  a  few 
blankets  were  thrown  by  some  of  the  soldiers  in  attendance.  “  If 
this  strange  place  does  not  alarm  you,”  he  said,  “  you  may  perhaps 
find  needful  repose  upon  a  couch  even  as  rough  as  this.” 

“You  are  very  kind,”  replied  Mildred,  seating  herself.  “  Brother, 
do  not  quit  my  side,”  she  added,  in  a  low  voice  :  “  I  feel  foohshly 
afraid.” 

But  a  few  moments  elapsed  before  the  light  of  the  torches, 
gleaming  upon  his  figure,  disclosed  to  Mildred  the  approach  of  a  per¬ 
son  of  short  stature  and  delicate  frame,  in  whose  step  there  was  a 
singular  alertness  and  rapidity.  He  wore  the  blue  and  buflf  uniform 
of  the  staft’,  with  a  pair  of  epaulets,  a  buckskin  belt,  and  broad¬ 
sword.  A  three-cornered  cocked-hat,  ornamented  with  a  buck-tail, 
gave  a  peculiar  sharpness  to  his  naturally  sharp  and  decided  fea¬ 
tures  ;  and  a  pair  of  small,  dark  eyes  twinkled  in  the  firelight,  from 
a  countenance  originally  sallow,  but  now  swarthy  from  sun  and 
wind.  There  was  a  conspicuous  alacrity  and  courtesy  in  the  gay 
and  chivalrous  tone  in  which  he  accosted  Mildred  : 

“  General  Marion,  madam,  is  too  happy  to  have  his  poor  camp 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


443 


honored  by  the  visit  of  a  lady.  They  tell  me  that  the  Tories 
were  so  uncivil  as  to  break  in  upon  your  slumbers  to-night.  It 
adds  greatly  to  my  grudge  against  them.” 

“  I  have  ventured,”  said  Mildred,  “  into  the  field  of  war,  and  it 
does  not  become  me  to  complain  that  I  have  met  its  vicissitudes.” 

“  Gallantly  spoken,  madam  !  May  I  be  allowed  to  know  to  whom 
I  am  indebted  for  the  honor  of  this  visit  ?  ” 

“  My  name  is  Lindsay,  my  father  resides  at  the  Dove  Cote  in 
Virginia ;  under  the  protection  of  my  brother  and  a  friend,  I  left 
home  to  travel  into  Carolina.” 

“  A  long  journey,  madam,”  interrupted  Marion ;  “  and  you  have 
been  sadly  vexed  to-night,  I  learn.  We  have  a  rude  and  unquiet 
country.” 

“  My  sister  and  myself,”  said  Ilenry,  “  counted  the  chances  before 
we  set  out.” 

“  I  would  call  you  but  an  inexperienced  guide,  sir,”  said  the 
General,  addressing  Henry,  and  smiling. 

“  Oh,  as  to  that,”  replied  the  youth,  “  we  have  an  old  soldier 
with  us — Horse  Shoe  Robinson — hem — Stephen  Foster,  I  meant 
to  say.” 

“  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  !”  exclaimed  Marion,  “  where  is  he  ?” 

“Mr.  Henry  Lindsay,  General,  and  me,”  said  the  sergeant, 
bluntly,  “  have  been  practising  a  lie  to  tell  the  Tories,  in  case  they 
should  take  us  unawares  ;  but  it  sticks,  you  see,  in  both  of  our 
throats.  It’s  the  true  fact  that  I’m  Horse  Shoe  himself.  Tliis 
calling  me  Stephen  Foster  is  only  a  hanging  out  of  false  colors  for 
the  benefit  of  the  red-coats  and  Tories,  upon  occasion.” 

“  Horse  Shoe,  good  fellow,  your  hand,”  said  Marion,  with  viva¬ 
city,  “  I  have  heard  of  you  before.  Miss  Lindsay,  excuse  me,  if 
you  please ;  I  have  business  to-night  which  is  apt  impertinently 
to  thrust  itself  between  us  and  our  duty  to  the  ladies.  Richards,” 
he  continued,  addressing  a  young  oflicer  who  stood  near  him,  “  see 
if  you  can  find  some  refreshment  that  would  be  acceptable  to  the 
lady  and  her  brother.  Horse  Shoe,  this  way :  I  would  speak  with 
you.” 

Marion  now  retired  towards  the  place  where  the  writing  ma¬ 
terials  were  first  noticed,  and  entered  into  an  examination  of  the 


444 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


sergeant,  as  to  the  particulars  of  the  recent  attack  upon  Wingate’s 
cabin. 

Before  Robiuson  had  finished  his  narrative  of  the  events  of  the 
night,  a  horseman  dashed  up  almost  at  full  speed  to  the  spot 
TS'here  Marion  stood,  and,  flinging  himself  from  his  saddle,  whilst 
his  horse  stood  panting  beside  him,  asked  for  the  General. 

“  How  now.  Bloody  Spur !  What’s  the  news  ?”  demanded 
Marion. 

“  The  Black  River  hawks  are  flying,”  said  the  soldier. 

“  I  have  heard  that  already,”  interrupted  the  chieftain.  “  Tell 
me  what  else.” 

“  I  stayed  long  enough  to  secure  Wingate’s  cattle,  and  then  set 
out  for  the  river  to  cut  loose  the  boats  at  the  Ferry.  I  did  it  in 
good  time.  Four  files  followed  close  upon  my  heels,  who  had 
been  sent  ahead  to  make  sure  of  the  means  of  crossing.  The  fel¬ 
lows  found  me  after  my  work  was  done,  and  chased  me  good  three 
miles.  They  will  hardly  venture.  General,  to  swim  the  river  to-night, 
with  all  the  thievery  they  have  in  their  hands ;  and  I  rather  take 
it  they  will  halt  at  the  ferry  till  daylight.” 

“  Then  that’s  a  lucky  cast,  Dick  Peyton,”  exclaimed  Marion. 
“  Ho,  there !  Peters,  wake  up  that  snoring  trumpeter.  Tell  him 
to  sound  ‘  to  saddle.’  Come  lads,  up,  up.  Gentlemen,  to  your 
duties !” 

Forthwith  the  trumpet  sounded,  and  with  its  notes  everything 
asleep  started  erect.  Troopers  were  seen  hurrying  across  the 
ground  in  rapid  motion ;  some  hastily  buckling  on  broadswords 
and  slinging  their  muskets ;  others  equipping  the  horses ;  and 
everywhere  torches  were  seen  passing  to  and  fro  in  all  the  agita¬ 
tion  of  a  sudden  muster.  As  soon  as  Marion  had  set  this  mass  in 
action,  he  repaired  to  Mildred,  and  in  a  manner  that  betokened  no 
excitement  from  the  general  stir  around  him,  he  said — 

“  I  owe  you  an  apology.  Miss  Lindsay,  for  this  desertion,  which 
1  am  sure  you  will  excuse  when  you  know  that  it  is  caused  by  my 
desire  to  punish  the  varlets  who  were  so  ill-mannered  as  to  intrude 
upon  your  slumbers.  I  hope,  however,  you  will  not  be  a  loser 
by  the  withdrawal  of  our  people,  as  I  will  take  measures  to  put 
you  under  the  protection  of  a  good  friend  of  mine,  the  widow  of  a 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


445 


worthy  soldier,  Mistress  Eachel  Markham,  who  lives  but  two  miles 
from  this,  and  whose  hospitable  mansion  will  afford  you  a  shelter 
more  congenial  to  your  wishes  than  this  broad  canopy  of  ours. 
A  guide  shall  be  ready  to  conduct  you.” 

“Your  kindness,  general,”  said  Mildred,  “  puts  me  under  many 
obligations.” 

“  Horse  Shoe  shall  take  a  line  of  explanation  to  my  friend,” 
added  Marion.  “  And  now,  madam,  farewell,”  he  said,  offering 
his  hand.  “  And  you.  Master  or  Mister  Henry,  I  don’t  know 
which — you  seem  entitled  to  both — good  night,  my  brave  lad  :  I 
hope,  before  long,  to  hear  of  your  figuring  as  a  gallant  soldier  of 
independence.” 

“  I  hope  as  much  myself,”  replied  Henry. 

Marion  withdrew,  and  by  the  time  that  he  had  prepared  the 
letter  and  put  it  into  Horse  Shoe’s  hands,  his  troops  were  in 
line,  waiting  their  order  to  march.  The  general  mounted  a  spirit¬ 
ed  charger,  and  galloping  to  the  front  of  his  men,  wheeled  them 
into  column,  and,  by  a  rapid  movement,  soon  left  Hoi-se  Shoe  and 
his  little  party,  attended  by  one  trooper  who  had  been  left  as  a 
guide,  the  only  tenants  of  this  lately  so  busy  scene.  The  change 
seemed  almost  like  enchantment.  The  fires  and  many  torches 
were  yet  burning,  but  all  was  still,  except  the  distant  murmur  of 
the  receding  troops,  which  grew  less  and  less,  until,  at  last,  there 
reigned  the  silence  of  the  native  forest. 

Our  travellers  waited,  almost  without  exchanging  a  word, 
absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  an  incident  so  novel  to  Mildred 
and  her  brother,  until  the  distant  tramp  of  the  cavalry  could  be 
no  longer  heard  :  then,  under  the  direction  of  the  guide,  they  set 
out  fbr  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Markham. 


CHAPTER  XLH. 


The  day  had  just  begun  to  dawn  as  our  party,  under  the  guidance 
of  Marion’s  soldier,  were  ferried  across  the  Pedee,  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  which  river  lay  the  estate  and  mansion  of  Mrs.  Markham. 
The  alarms  and  excitements  of  the  past  night  had  ceased  to 
stimulate  the  frame  of  Mildred,  and  she  now  found  herself  sinking 
under  the  most  weariness.  Henry  had  actually  fallen 

asleep  as  he  sat. upon  the  gunwale  of  the  ferry-boat,  and  rested  his 
head  against  the  sergeant’s  shoulder :  the  whole  party  were  over¬ 
come  with  the  lassitude  that  is  so  distressing,  at  this  hour  of 
dawning,  to  all  persons  who  have  spent  the  night  in  watching ; 
and  even  the  sergeant  himself,  to  the  influences  of  fatigue  and 
privation  the  most  inaccessible  of  mortals,  and,  by  fate  or  fortune, 
the  most  unmalleable — occasionally  nodded  his  head,  as  if  answering 
the  calls  of  man’s  most  welcome  visitor.  It  was,  therefore,  with 
more  than  ordinary  contentment  that  our  travellers,  when  again 
mounted,  were  enabled  to  descry,  in  the  first  light  of  the  morning, 
a  group  of  buildings  seated  upon  an  eminence  about  a  mile 
distant,  on  the  fm'ther  side  of  the  cultivated  lowland  that  stretched 
along  the  southern  margin  of  the  river.  The  guide  announced 
that  this  was  the  point  of  their  destination,  and  the  intelligence 
encouraged  the  party  to  accelerate  the  speed  wflth  w'hich  they 
journeyed  over  the  plain.  When  they  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  the  character  of  the  spot  they  were  approaching  was  more 
distinctly  developed  to  their  view.  The  mansion,  encompassed  by 
a  tuft  of  trees  that  flung  their  broad  and  ancient  limbs  above  its 
roof,  was  of  the  best  class  of  private  dwellings,  old  and  stately  in 
its  aspect,  and  exhibiting  all  the  appendages  that  characterized 
the  seat  of  a  wealthy  proprietor.  It  was  constructed  entirely  of 
wood,  in  accordance  with  a  notion  that  prevailed  at  that  period, 
no  less  than  at  the  present,  that  a  frame  structure  was  best  adapt¬ 
ed  to  the  character  of  the  climate.  It  occupied  the  crest  of  a 

446 


horse  shoe  ROBINSON. 


447 


hill  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  river  with  its  extensive 
plains ;  whilst,  in  ton,  it  was  overlooked  by  the  adjacent  tract  of 
country  bearing  the  name  of  the  Cheraw  Highlands'. 

As  the  party  ascended  this  eminence,  Henry,  in  the  eager  and 
thoughtless  satisfaction  of  the  moment,  put  his  bugle  to  his  mouth 
and  continued  to  blow  with  all  his  might,  deaf  to  the  remonstrances 
of  his  sister,  who  was  endeavoring  to  explain  that  there  was  some 
want  of  courtesy  in  so  abrupt  a  challenge  of  the  hospitality  of  the 
family.  The  blast  was  interrupted  by  Horse  Shoe’s  laying  his 
hand  upon  the  instrument,  as  he  gave  the  indiscreet  bugler  a  short 
military  lecture  ; 

“You  might  fetch  trouble  upon  us.  Mister  Henry :  this  here 
screeching  of  horns  or  trumpets  is  sometimes  a  sort  of  bullying  of 
a  gan-ison  ;  and  if  an  enemy  should  happen  to  be  on  post  here — 
as,  God  knows,  is  likely  enough  in  such  scampering  wars  as  these, 
why  you  have  set  the  thing  past  cure :  for  it  is  cutting  off  all 
chance  of  escape,  just  as  much  as  if  the  people  had  been  ordered 
‘  to  horse.’  It  leaves  nothing  for  us  but  to  brazen  it  out.” 

An  old  negro  was  first  startled  by  the  summons,  and  appeared 
for  a  moment  at  the  door  of  one  of  the  out-buildings,  evincing,  as 
he  looked  down  the  road  upon  the  approaching  cavalcade,  mani¬ 
fest  signs  of  consternation.  After  a  brief  glance,  he  was  seen  to 
retreat  across  the  yard  to  the  door  of  the  mansion-house,  where  he 
fell  to  beating  at  it  with  as  much  earnestness  as  if  giving  an  alarm 
of  fire,  shouting  at  the  same  time,  “  Lord  bless  us,  mistress  !  here 
is  a  whole  rigiment  of  sodgers  coming  to  turn  everything  topsy¬ 
turvy.  Get  up,  get  up — open  the  door !”  . 

“  Stop  your  bawling,  you  stunted  black-jack !”  said  Robinson, 
who  had  galloped  up  to  the  spot,  “  and  none  of  your  lies.  Is  the 
lady  of  the  house  at  home  ?” 

A  window  was  thrown  up,  at  the  same  moment,  in  an  upper 
story,  and  a  female  head,  decorated  with  a  nightcap,  was  thrust 
out,  whilst  a  voice,  tremulous  with  affright,  inquired  what  was  the 
cause  of  this  disturbance ;  but  before  an  answer  could  be  given 
the  head  was  withdrawn,  and  the  door  opening  discovered  a  youth 
scarcely  in  appearance  over  sixteen,  with  a  loose  robe  thrown 
around  his  person  and  a  pistol  in  his  hand. 


448 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“"WTio  comes  here,  and  with  what  purpose  ?”  was  the  question 
firmly  put  by  the  young  man. 

“  Friends,”  said  Horse  Shoe — “  sent  to  the  good  lady  by  General 
Marion.  Sorry,  sir,  to  be  the  occasion  of  such  a  rumpus*  But 
this  here  young  lady  has  travelled  all  night  and  is  ’most  dead  with 
hardships.” 

Mildred,  who  with  the  rest  of  the  company  had  now  arrived 
near  the  door,  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  questioner  retired, 
calling  the  negro  after  him  into  the  house.  In  a  moment  the 
servant  returned  with  Mrs.  Markham’s  comphments  to  the  party, 
and  a  request  that  they  would  alight. 

“  Then  all’s  well,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  dismounting,  and  im¬ 
mediately  afterwards  lifting  Mildred  from  her  saddle,  “  a  friend  in 
need,  madam,  is  the  gi'eatest  of  God’s  blessings.  I  make  no 
doubt  you  wiU  find  this  as  snug  a  nest  as  you  ever  flew  into  in 
your  life.” 

“  And,  good  sergeant,  most  specially  welcome,”  replied  Mildred, 
smiling  in  the  midst  of  all  her  pain,  “  for  in  truth  I  never  was  so 
weary.” 

The  guide,  having  now  performed  his  duty,  announced  that  he 
must  return  to  his  corps ;  and,  after  a  few  cheering  words  of 
kind  remembrance  from  Mildred,  coupled  with  a  message  of 
thanks  to  Marion,  he  wheeled  about  and  galloped  ha^di  towards 
the  river.  Mildred  and  Henry  entered  the  house ;  and  the 
sergeant,  taking  command  of  Isaac,  followed  the  horses  towards 
the  stable. 

The  brother  and  sister  were  ushered  into  an  ample  parlor,  com¬ 
fortably  furnished  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  wealthier  classes 
of  that  day  ;  and,  Mildi’ed  as  she  threw  herself  upon  a  capacious 
sofa,  could  not  fail  to  recognise  in  the  formal  portraits  that  were 
suspended  to  the  pannelled  walls,  that  she  was  in  the  dwelling  of  a 
family  of  some  pride  of  name  and  lineage. 

After  a  short  interval,  the  proprietress  of  the  mansion  entered 
the  parlor.  She  was  a  lady  of  a  kind  and  gentle  aspect,  apparently 
advanced  beyond  the  middle  period  of  life  ;  and  her  features, 
somewhat  emaciated,  gave  a  sign  of  feeble  health.  She  was  attired 
in  dishabille,  hastily  thrown  on  ;  and  there  was  some  expression  of 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


449 


alarm  in  the  unreserved  and  familiar  manner  with  which  she 
approached  Mildred,  and  inquired  into  the  nature  of  this  early 
journey. 

“I ‘hope  no  unhappy  accident,  my  dear,  has  driven  you  at  this 
unusual  hour  to  my  poor  house  ?  You  are  heartily  welcome.  I 
fear  to  ask  what  has  brought  you.” 

“  My  brother  and  myself,  madam,”  said  Mildred,  “  have  had  a 
most  adventurous  night.  This  letter  will  explain.  General  Marion 
was  so  kind  as  to  commit  us  to  your  liosj^itality.” 

The  lady  took  the  letter  and  read  it. 

“  hliss  Lindsay,  my  child,  I  am  truly  happy  to  serve  you.  You 
have  had  an  awful  night,  but  these  times  make  us  acquainted  with 
strange  afflictions.  This  young  gentleman,  your  brother,  is  he  your 
only  attendant  ?” 

hlildred  began  to  communicate  the  details  of  her  journey,  when 
she  was  interrupted  by  her  hostess. 

“  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  questions,  now,  my  dear.  You 
must  have  sleep  ;  I  dread  lest  your  health  may  suffer  by  this  harsh 
exposure.  After  you  have  had  rest,  we  will  talk  more,  and  become 
better  acquainted.  Judith,”  continued  the  matron,  addressing  a 
servant  maid,  who  had  just  entered  the  room,  “  attend  this  lady  to 
a  chamber.  Mr.  Henry  Lindsay,  I  believe — so  General  Marion  calls 
you — my  srJn  Alfred  shall  take  you  in  charge.” 

With  these  words  the  good  lady  left  the  room,  and  in  an  instant 
after  returned  with  the  youth  who  had  first  appeared  at  the  door. 
Upon  being  introduced  by  his  mother  to  the  guests,  he  lost  no  time 
in  obeying  her  orders  in  regard  to  Henry,  whom  he  had  conducted 
out  of  the  room  at  the  same  moment  that  Mildred  followed  the 
servant  towards  a  chamber. 

The  entire  day  was  spent  by  our  party  in  recruiting  their  strength, 
towards  which  needful  care  the  hospitable  hostess  contributed  by 
the  tenderest  attentions.  On  the  following  morning  Mildred, 
although  refreshed  by  the  slumbers  of  the  long  interval,  still  ex¬ 
hibited  the  traces  of  her  recent  fatigue ;  and  upon  the  earnest 
recommendation  of  Mrs.  Markham,  seconded  by  the  almost  oracu¬ 
lar  authority  of  Horse  Shoe, — for  the  sergeant  had  greatly  won  upon 
the  respect  of  his  companions  by  his  prudence  and  discretion — 
she  determined  to  remain  another  day  in  her  present  resting-place. 


450 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


Mrs.  Markliain  was  the  widow  of  a  Carolina  gentleman,  who  had 
borne  the  rank  of  a  colonel  in  the  Whig  militia,  and  had  been 
actively  employed,  in  the  earher  stages  of  the  war,  in  the  southern 
pro\dnces.  He  had  fallen  in  an  unfortunate  skirmish  with  some  of 
Prevost’s  light  troops,  on  the  Savannah  river,  some  sixteen  months 
before ;  and  his  widow,  with  three  daughters  and  no  other  male 
protector  than  an  only  son,  was  now,  in  this  season  of  extreme 
peril,  residing  upon  a -large  estate,  which  the  evil  fortune  of  the 
times  had  made  the  theatre  of  an  eventful  and  active  desultory  war. 
She  had  been  exposed  to  the  most  cruel  exactions  from  the  Tories, 
to  whom  her  possessions  were  generally  yielded  up  with  a  passive 
and  helpless  submission  ;  and  the  firmness  with  which,  in  all  her 
difficulties,  she  had  adhered  to  the  cause  for  which  her  husband 
fell,  had  gained  for  her  the  generous  sympathy  of  the  whig  leaders, 
and  more  than  once  stimulated  them  to  enterprises,  in  her  behalf, 
that  were  followed  by  severe  chastisement  upon  her  enemies.  These 
circumstances  had  given  extensive  notoriety  to  her  name,  and 
drawn  largely  upon  her  the  observation  of  both  friend  and  foe.  To 
Marion,  who  hovered  upon  this  border  more  hke  a  goblin  than  a 
champion  whose  footsteps  might  be  tracked,  her  protection  had 
become  a  subject  of  peculiar  interest ;  and  the  indefatigable  soldier 
fr'equently  started  up  in  her  neighborhood  when  danger  was  at  hand, 
with  a  mysterious  form  of  opposition  that  equally  defied  the  calcu¬ 
lations  of  Whigs  and  Tories. 

The  lady  was  still  in  her  weeds,  and  giief  and  care  had  thrown 
a  pallor  upon  her  cheek  ;  but  the  watchfulness  imposed  upon  her 
by  the  emergencies  of  the  day,  her  familiarity  with  alarms,  and  the 
necessity  for  constant  foresight  and  decisive  action,  had  infused  a 
certain  hardihood  into  her  character,  that  is  seldom  believed  to 
be, — but  yet  in  the  horn’  of  trial  unerringly  exhibits  itself — an 
attribute  of  the  female  bosom.  Her  manners  were  considerate, 
kind,  and  fraught  with  dignity.  She  was  the  personation  of  a  class 
of  matrons  that — ^for  the  honor  of  om’  country  and  of  the  human 
race — was  not  small  in  its  numbers,  nor  upon  trial  unworthy  of  its 
fame,  in  the  sad  history  of  the  sufferings  of  Carolina. 

The  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Mildi-ed  arrived  at  the  mansion 
brought  rumors  of  a  brilliant  exploit  achieved  by  Marion ;  and 
more  circumstantial  accounts  on  the  following  morning  confirmed 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


451 


the  good  tidings.  The  alert  partisan  had  fallen  upon  the  track  of 
the  freebooters  who  had  been  marauding  on  the  confines  of  North 
Carolina,  and  whose  incursion  had  expelled  our  travellers  from 
Wingate’s  cabin.  Marion  had  overtaken  them  before  sunrise,  on 
the  bank  of  the  Pedee,  where  they  had  been  detained  by  reason  of 
Peyton’s  successful  removal  of  the  boats.  A  short  but  most  deci¬ 
sive  combat  was  the  consequence,  and  victory,  as  she  was  wont,  had 
seated  herself  upon  Marion’s  banner.  The  chieftain  and  his  fol¬ 
lowers  had,  as  usual,  disappeared,  and  the  whole  country  was  in  a 
state  of  agitation  and  dread ;  the  one  side  fearing  a  repetition  of 
the  blow  in  some  unlooked-for  quarter,  the  other  alarmed  by  the 
expectation  of  quick  and  bloody  repi-isal. 

These  events  still  more  contributed  to  fortify  Mildred’s  resolution 
to  remain  another  day  under  the  shelter  of  Mrs.  Markliam’s  friendly 
roof,  before  she  would  venture  forth  in  the  further  prosecution  of 
her  journey. 

Here,  for  the  present,  we  must  leave  her. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


OCCURRENCES  AT  MUSGROVE’s  MILL. 

She  passed  by  stealth  the  narrow  door. 

The  postern  way  also, 

And  thought  each  bush  her  robe  that  tore, 

The  grasp  of  a  warding  foe.— Joanna  Baillie, 

The  montli  of  September  was  more  than  half  gone.  The  night 
had  just  set  in,  and  the  waxing  moon  shone  forth  from  a  clear 
heaven,  flinging  her  rays  upon  the  rippling  surface  of  the  Ennoree 
and  upon  the  glossy  leaves  that  flickered  in  the  wind  by  the  banks 
of  the  stream,  when  Mary  Musgrove,  with  wary  and  stealthy  pace, 
glided  along  the  path,  intricate  with  shrubbery,  that  led  upwards 
immediately  upon  the  margin  of  the  river.  For  a  full  half  hour 
had  she  toiled  along  this  narrow  way  since  she  had  stolen  past  the 
sentinel  near  her  father’s  gate.  The  distance  was  not  a  mile  ;  but 
the  anxious  maiden,  pursued  by  her  own  fears,  had  more  than 
once,  in  the  fancy  that  she  was  followed,  stopped  in  her  career  a,nd 
concealed  herself  in  the  thick  copse-wood,  and  listened  with  painful 
intensity  for  the  footsteps  of  those  whom  her  imagination  had  set 
upon  her  track.  There  was,  however,  no  pursuit;  it  was  the 
prowling  fox  or  the  raccoon  whose  leap  had  disturbed  the  dry  and 
rotten  branches  that  lay  upon  the  ground  ;  and  Mary  smiled  with 
faint-heartedness  at  the  illusions  of  her  own  mind.  She  arrived  at 
last  beneath  the  brow  of  a  crag  that  jutted  over  the  stream,  and  in 
the  shade  of  one  of  the  angles  of  the  rock,  she  discerned  the  figure 
of  a  man  seated  upon  the  grass.  She  paused  with  a  distrustful 
caution,  as  she  challenged  the  silent  and  half-concealed  person. 

“Hist,  John  !  is  it  you  ?  For  mercy,  speak !  Why  would  you 
frighten  me  ? — Me,  Mary.  Don’t  you  know  me  ?”  said  the  maiden, 
as  she  took  heart  of  grace  and  advanced  near  enough  to  put 
her  hand  upon  John  Ramsay’s  shoulder.  “  Powers  above !  the 

452 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


463 


man’s  asleep,”  she  added  laugh.  “  Wlio  would  have  thought 
I  should  have  caught  you  napj)ing,  John,  at  such  a  time  as  this !” 

“  Why,  in  truth,  Mary,”  said  John  Ramsay,  waking  up  under  the 
touch  of  his  mistress,  and 'rising  to  his  feet,  “  I  deserve  to  he  shot 
for  sleeping  on  my  watch ;  hut  I  have  been  so  driven  from  post  to 
pillar  for  this  last  fortnight,  that  it  is  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  keep 
my  eyes  open  when  night  comes  on.  So  Mary,  you  will  forgive 
me,  and  more  particularly  rvhen  I  tell  you  I  was  dreaming  of  you ; 
and  thought  this  war  was  at  an  end,  and  that  you  and  I  M'ere 
happy  in  a  house  of  our  own.  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  for 
upwards  of  an  hour.” 

“  Ah,  John,  I  don’t  think  I  could  sleep  if  it  had  been  my  turn  to 
watch  for  you.” 

“  There’s  the  difference,”  replied  John,  “  betwixt  you  women  and 
us  men ;  you  are  so  full  of  frights  and  fidgetings  and  fancyings, 
that  I  do  verily  believe  all  the  sleeping  doses  in  the  world  could 
never  make  you  shut  your  eyes  when  anything  is  going  on  that 
requires  watching,  whether  it  be  for  a  sick  friend  or  for  a  piece  of 
scheming.  Now,  with  us,  we  take  a  nap  on  a  hard-trotting  horse, 
and  fall  to  snoring  up  to  the  very  minute  that  the  trumpet  wakes 
us  to  make  a  charge.  What  news  from  Butler  ?” 

“It  is  all  fixed,”  answered  Mary,  “  to  our  hearts’  content.  Lieu¬ 
tenant  Macdonald,  ever  since  Cornwallis’s  letter,  allows  Major  But¬ 
ler  greater  privileges ;  and  the  sentinels  are  not  half  so  strict  as 
they  used  to  be  ;  so  that  I  think  we  may  give  them  the  slip.  By 
the  gable  window  that  looks  out  from  the  garret  room,  the  Major 
will  be  able  to  get  upon  the  roof,  and  that,  he  thinks,  is  near 
enough  to  the  tree  for  him  to  risk  a  leap  into  its  branches ;  though 
I  am  almost  afraid  he  is  mistaken,  for  it  looks  awfully  wide  for  a 
spring.  He  says  if  you  will  be  ready  with  the  hoi-ses  an  hour  be¬ 
fore  day-light  to-morrow,  he  will  try  the  leap,  and  join  you  at  the 
willows  above  the  mill.  Christopher  will  saddle  one  of  the  wagon- 
horses  and  lead  him  to  the  place.” 

“  And  the  sentinel  who  keeps  guard  on  that  side  1” 

“  Ah,  John,  that  puzzles  us,”  said  Mary ;  “  I’m  so  much  afraid 
that  you  will  be  rash.  It  is  in  your  nature  to  forget  yourself.” 

“  Tut,  girl ;  don’t  talk  of  that.  I’ll  find  a  way  to  manage  the 
sentinel.  I  will  steal  up  to  him  and  take  him  unawares ;  and  then 


454 


HORSB  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


seizing  him  by  the  throat,  give  him  his  choice  of  a  knife  in  between 
his  ribs,  or  a  handful  of  guineas  in  his  pocket.” 

“  Hadn’t  we  better  tell  him  what  a  good  man  the  Major  is  ?”  said 
Mary,  alarmed  at  the  idea  of  a  struggle  in  which  her  lover’s 
hfe  might  be  endangered,  “  and  try  to  coax  him  to  take  our 
side  !” 

“  Ha,  ha !”  ejaculated  the  trooper  involuntarily,  “  that’s  a  very 
good  woman’s  thought,  but  it  won’t  hold  out  in  a  campaign.  The 
fellow  might  happen  to  have  some  honesty,  and  then  away  goes 
our  w'hole  scheme.  No,  no ;  blows  are  the  coin  that  these  rascals 
buy  their  bread  with,  and,  faith,  we’ll  trade  with  them  in  the  same 
article.” 

“  But  then,  John,  you  will  be  in  danger.” 

“  What  of  that,  girl  ?  Wken  have  I  been  out  of  danger  ?  And 
don’t  you  see,  Mary,  what  good  luck  I  have  with  it  ?  Never  fear 
me ;  I  will  stifle  the  fellow  in  the  genteelest  fashion  known  in  the 
wars.” 

“  And  if  it  must  be  so,  John,  I  will  say  my  prayers  for  you  with 
more  earnestness  than  I  ever  said  them  in  my  life.  As  my  father 
says,  the  God  of  Israel  will  stand  by  our  cause :  and  when  He  is  for 
us,  what  care  we  who  is  against  us  ?” 

“You  are  a  good  girl,  Mary,”  replied  John  Ramsay,  smiling. 
“  Get  back  to  the  house ;  let  Major  Butler  know  that  you  have  seen 
me,  and  that  I  will  be  ready.” 

“  He  is  to  be  at  the  window,”  said  Mary,  “  and  I  am  to  signify 
to  him  that  you  are  prepared,  by  setting  up  a  plank  against  the 
garden  fence  in  a  place  where  he  can  see  it.  He  is  to  keep  a  look¬ 
out  from  the  window  all  night,  and  when  the  time  comes  you  are 
to  flash  a  little  powder  on  the  edge  of  the  woods  upon  the  hill :  if 
he  is  ready  then  he  will  show  his  candle  near  the  window-sill ;  that, 
he  says,  must  be  a  sign  for  you  to  come  on ;  and  when  he  sees  you 
he  will  take  the  leap.” 

“  I  understand  it,”  said  Ramsay.  “  Tell  Christopher  to  be  sure 
of  the  horse.” 

“  I  have  a  great  deal  of  courage,  John,  when^danger  is  far  off” — 
but  when  it  comes  near,  I  tremble  like  a  poor  coward,”  said  Mary. 
“  Does  not  my  hand  feel  cold  ?” 


H0R3K  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


455 


“  Xour  lips  are  warm,  Mary,”  replied  John,  kissing  her,  “  and 
your  heart  is  warm.  Now,  never  flag  when  it  comes  to  the  trial. 
Everything  depends  upon  you.  We  shall  be  very  happy,  by-and- 
by,  to  talk  this  thing  all  over.  How  many  soldiers  are  on  Mac¬ 
donald’s  guard  ?  Have  none  left  you  since  I  saw  you  yesterday  ?” 

“  None,”  said  Mary ;  “  one  man  left  the  mill  two  days  since. 
I  think  I  heard  them  say  he  was^oing  to  Ninety-six,  on  business 
for  the  lieutenant.” 

“Well,  well,  it  makes  but  little  odds  how  many  are  there,  so 
they  but  sleep  soundly.  Our  business  is  more  to  run  than  to  fight. 
Mary,  my  girl,  step  across  to  my  father’s  to-morrow,  and  he  will 
tell  you  what  has  become  of  me.  We  must  get  the  Major  out  of 
this  country  of  wolf-traps  as  fast  as  we  can.” 

“  I  forgot  to  ask  you,”  said  the  maiden,  “  if  you  had  some  coarse 
clothes  ready  for  the  Major.  He  must  not  seem  to  bo  what 
he  is.” 

“  Trust  me  for  that,”  replied  the  trooper.  “  Christopher  has 
given  me  a  bundle  with  as  fine  a  dusty  suit  in  it  as  any  miller’s 
boy  ever  wore ;  and  besides  that,  I  have  a  meal  bag  to  throw 
across  the  Major’s  saddle  :  and  as  for  myself,  Mary,  there’s  plough¬ 
man  in  my  very  looks.  We  shall  cheat  all  the  Tories  betwixt  this 
and  Catawba.” 

“  Now,  John,  before  I  leave  you,  I  have  one  favor  to  ask.” 

“  And  what  is  that  ?”  inquired  the  generous-hearted  soldier, 
“  you  know,  if  I  can,  I  will  grant  it  before  it  is  named.” 

“  I  would  ask  as  a  favor  to  me,”  said  Mary,  with  earnestness, 
“  that  you  will  not  be  too  venturesome :  the  IMajor  is  a  wiser  man 
than  you,  so  be  governed  by  him.  Remember,  John,  if  any  ill 
were  to  happen  to  you,  it  would  break  my  heart.” 

“  I  am  not  so  foolhardy,  my  girl,”  replied  Ramsay,  “  but,  that 
when  there’s  occasion  for  it,  I  can  show  as  clean  a  pair  of  heels  as 
any  man  :  and  so,  for  your  sake,  you  kitten,”  he  said,  as  he  put 
his  hands  upon  her  cheeks,  and  again  snatched  a  kiss,  “  I  will 
run  to-mon-ow  like  a  whole  troop  of  devils.  And  now,  Mary,  good 
night,  and  God  bless  you  girl !  it  is  time  you  were  at  home.  Yet 
upon  second  thoughts,  I  will  walk  part  of  the  way  with  you.  So, 
take  my  arm  and  let  us  begin  the  retreat.” 

“John,  I  do  so  fear  you  may  be  hurt,”  said  the  maiden,  as  they 


450 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


pursued  tlieir  way  along  tlie  pafli,  her  whole  thoughts  being 
absorbed  with  the  danger  of  the  enterprise.  “  Be  careful  when 
you  come  near  the  sentinel  to  wait  until  his  back  is  turned.  This 
moon  shines  bright,  and  j’ou  may  easily  be  seen.” 

“  Blit  look,  girl,  the  moon  has  scarcely  two  hours  yet  to  travel, 
and,  from  that  circle  round  it,  I  shouldn’t  wonder  if  we  had  rain 
before  day-light ;  so  by  the  hour  we  have  fixed  for  the  Major’s 
escape,  it  will  be  dark  enough*:  therefore  you  may  be  easy  on 
that  score.” 

The  humble  and  ardent  lovers  pursued  their  way  towards  the 
miller’s  dwelling  with  slow  steps,  intently  engaged  in  conversing 
over  the  chances  of  their  perilous  project,  until  they  arrived  at  a 
point  beyond  which  it  was  not  safe  for  John  Ramsay  to  venture. 
Here,  after  many  affectionate  caresses  and  fond  adieus,  they 
separated — the  maiden  to  steal  to  her  place  of  rest,  the  soldier  to 
hasten  back  to  his  horse,  that  awaited  him  near  the  scene  of  the 
late  meeting. 

Mary  soon  arrived  at  the  mill ;  then  sauntering  carelessly 
towards  the  dwelling-house,  began,  the  better  to  conceal  her  pur¬ 
pose,  to  sing  a  simple  air,  during  which  she  had  w’andered  up  to 
the  garden  fence,  where  she  delayed  long  enough  to  set  up  the 
plank.  The  small  window  in  the  angle  of  the  roof  of  the  cottage 
looked  down  upon  the  spot  where  she  stood  ;  and  as  she  cast  her 
eyes  towards  this  part  of  the  building,  she  received  a  recognition 
from  the  prisoner,  in  a  slight  waving  of  the  hand,  which  was 
suflSciently  observable  by  the  light  of  the  taper  within. 

Matters  having  gone  so  far  to  the  maiden’s  satisfaction,  she  now 
retreated  into  the  house. 

The  reader  will  perceive  from  this  naiTative  that  Butler’s 
fortunes  had  greatly  improved  since  we  last  took  leave  of  him. 
The  messCn'^’er  despatched  to  Cornwallis  by  Williams  had  brought 
back  to  the  Fair  Forest,  where  it  will  be  remembered  the  van¬ 
quishers  of  Innis  had  retreated,  a  more  favorable  answer  than 
even  the  republican  leader  had  hoped.  The  British  commander 
was  not  ignorant  of  the  capture  of  Butler,  but  the  circumstances 
of  the  trial  had  not  before  been  communicated  to  him.  Upon  the 
representation  of  Williams,  he  had  no  hesitation  to  order  a  respite 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBXNSON, 


457 


to  be  givea  to  the  prisoner  for  such  reasonable  time  as  might  be 
necessary  for  further  investigation.  This  obvious  act  of  justice 
was  moi-e  than,  in  the  circumstances  of  the  times,  might  have 
been  expected  from  Cornwallis.  The  cruel  and  bloody  policy 
which  he  adopted  towards  the  inhabitants  of  the  Carolinas, 
immediately  after  the  battle  of  Camden,  showed  a  tone  of  pereona! 
exacerbation  that  was  scarcely  consistent  with  the  lenity  displayed 
towards  Butler.  It  is  not  unlikely,  therefore,  that  the  fear  of 
retaliation  upon  the  young  St.  Jertnyn,  of  whose  fate  he  might 
have  been  informed  from  officers  of  his  own  camp,  might  have 
induced  him  to  temporize  in  the  present  case,  and  to  grant  a  sus¬ 
pension  of  proceedings  against  the  rebel  prisoner.  The  reply  to 
Williams’s  letter  accordingly  intimated  that,  for  the  present.  Major 
Butler  should  bp  held  in  close  custody  as  a  prisoner  of  war, 
leaving  the  determination  of  the  manner  in  which  he  was  finally 
to  be  disposed  of,  a  subject  for  future  consideration. 

John  Ramsay,  after  the  departure  of  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  for 
Virginia,  instead  of  rejoining  his  regiment,  returned  to  the  Fair 
Forest  camp,  where  he  remained  with  Williams,  until  the  answer 
from  Cornwallis  was  received.  The  tidings  of  this  answer  he  under¬ 
took  to  convey  to  Butler,  and  ho  again  set  out  for  his  father’s  house. 
John  felt  himself  now  regularly  enlisted  in  the  service  of  the 
prisoner,  and  having  found  means  to  communicate  his  present 
employment  to  General  Sumpter,  he  obtained  permission  to  remain 
in  it  as  long  as  his  assistance  was  of  value.  The  service  itself  was 
a  grateful  one  to  the  young  trooper;  it  accorded  with  the 
generosity  of  his  character,  and  gratified  his  personal  pi-ide  by  the 
trust-worthiness  which  it  implied :  but  more  than  this,  it  brought 
him  into  opportunities  of  frequent  meeting  with  Mary  Musgi'ove, 
who,  passionately  beloved  by  the  soldier,  was  not  less  ardent  than 
he  in  lier  eftbrts  to  promote  the  interest  of  Butler. 

The  state  of  the  country  did  not  allow  John  to  be  seen  in 
day-time,  and  he  and  Mary  had  consequently  appointed  a  place  of 
meeting,  where  in  the  .shades  of  night  they  might  commune 
together  on  the  important  subjects  of  their  secret  conspiracy. 
Night  after  night  they  accordingly  met  at  this  spot,  and  herciall 
their  schemes  were  contrived.  Mary  sometimes  came  to  David 
Ramsay’s  dwelling,  and  the  old  man’s  counsel  was  added  to  that 

20 


453 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


of  the  lovers.  Christopher  Shaw  and  Allen  Musgrove  were  not 
ignorant  of  what  was  in  contemplation,  hut  it  was  a  piece  of 
necessary  policy  that  they  should  appear  to  be  as  little  connected 
with  the  prisoner  as  possible.  Christopher,  therefore,  pursued  his 
duties  as  assistant-quarter-master  or  purveyor  to  the  little  garrison 
under  Macdonald’s  command,  with  unabated  assiduity. 

The  plan  of  Butler’s  escape  was  John  Ramsay’s.  He  had  been 
anxiously  awaiting  an  'opportunity  to  attempt  this  enterprise  for 
the  last  fortnight,  but  the  dilBculty  of  concerting  operations  with 
the  prisoner  had  retarded  his  movement.  This  difficulty  was  at 
last  overcome,  and,  for  a  few  days  past,  the  plan  had  been  arrang¬ 
ed.  All  that  was  left  to  be  done  was  to  appoint  the  hour. 
Christopher  Shaw  and  Mary,  alone  of  the  miller’s  family,  were 
made  acquainted  with  the  details.  Christopher  was  to  provide  a 
horse  and  a  suitable  disguise  for  Butler,  and  these  were  to  be 
ready  at  a  tuft  of  willows  that  grew  upon  the  edge  of  the  river 
some  quarter  of  a  mile  above  the  mill,  whenever  Mary  should 
announce  that  John  was  ready  to  act.  Ramsay’s  horse  was  to  be 
brought  to  the  same  spot.  The  preparatory  signals,  already 
mentioned,  were  all  agreed  upon  and  understood  by  the  parties. 
Butler  was  to  escape  to  the  roof,  and  thence  by  the  boughs  of  a 
large  oak  that  grew  hard  by  the  miller’s  dwelling.  A  sentinel 
was  usually  posted  some  fifty  paces  from  this  tree,  and  it  was  a 
matter  of  great  perplexity  to  determine  how  his  vigilance  was  to 
be  defeated.  This  difficulty,  John  resolved,  should  be  overcome 
by  a  stern  measure  :  the  man  was  to  be  silenced,  if  necessary,  by  a 
blow.  John  Ramsay  was  to  steal  upon  him  in  the  dark,  and  if 
signs  of  alarm  were  given,  he  was  to  master  the  sentinel  in  such 
a  manner  as  the  occasion  might  require,  being  furnished  by  Butler 
with  a  purse  of  gold,  if  such  a  form  of  influence  might  be 
necessary. 

Such  is  the  outline  of  the  plan  by  which  Butler’s  disenthral- 
ment  was  to  be  attempted. 

Mary  Musgrove,  before  she  retired  to  her  chamber,  sought  Chris¬ 
topher  Shaw  and  made  him  acquainted  with  the  appointment  of 
the  hour,  and  then  left  him  to  manage  his  own  share  of  the  enter¬ 
prise.  It  was  now  near  ten  at  night,  and  Christopher,  who  had 
charge  of  Allen  Musgrove’s  stable,  in  order  to  avoid  the  suspicion 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


459 


of  being  seen  stirring  at  a  later  hour,  immediately  set  off  to  saddle 
the  horse.  One  of  the  wagon  team,  well  known  in  the  family  by 
the  name  of  Wall  Eye,  was  selected  for  this  service,  and  being 
speedily  accoutred,  was  conducted  to  the  willows,  where  he  was 
tied  fast  to  a  tree,  to  remain  until  the  hour  of  need.  The  young 
miller  soon  returned,  and  it  was’  not  long  afterwards  that  the 
household  and  its  military  companions  were  wrapt  in  the  silence  of 
unsuspecting  repose. 

Butler,  at  the  hour  of  the  customary  visit  of  the  watch,  had  gone  to 
bed  ;  and,  feigning  sickness,  had  been  allowed  to  burn  a  light  in  his 
room  during  the  night.  His  chamber  door,  also,  by  special  favor,  was 
closed ;  and  the  night  advanced  without  suspicion  or  distrust  from 
any  quarter.  At  two  o’clock  the  last  sentinels  were  relieved,  and 
the  form  had  been  gone  through  of  inspecting  the  prisoner’s  cham¬ 
ber.  To  all  outward  show,  Butler  was  asleep  ;  the  door  was 
again  shut,  and  all  was  still.  The  time  for  action  now  arrived. 
Butler  rose  silently  from  his  bed,  dressed  himself,  and,  putting  his 
shoes  into  his  pockets,  stole  in  his  stockinged  feet  to  the  little  gable 
window  at  the  further  end  of  his  apartment.  Here  he  remained, 
gazing  out  upon  the  night  with  fixed  attention.  The  moon  had  set, 
and  the  sky  was  overcast  with  clouds,  adding  a  fortunate  obscurity 
to  the  natural  darkness  of  the  hour.  By  still  greater  good  luck, 
after  a  few  moments  the  wind  began  to  rise  and  rain  to  descend. 
Everything  seemed  to  favor  the  enterprise.  The  shadowy  form  of  the 
sentinel,  who  was  stationed  on  this  side  of  the  house,  was  dimly 
discerned  by  Butler  through  the  gloom  ;  and  it  was  with  joyful 
satisfaction  that  he  could  perceive  the  soldier,  as  the  rain  fell  in  larger 
drops,  retreat  some  distance  from  his  post  and  take  shelter  beneath 
the  shrubbery  that  grew  in  the  garden.  At  the  same  moment  a 
flash  upon  the  hill,  which  might  have  been  mistaken  for  summer 
lightning,  announced  to  him  that  his  faithful  comrade  was  at  hand. 
Desirous  to  take  advantage  of  the  present  neglect  of  the  sentinel, 
and  to  avoid  the  possibility  of  bringing  him  into  conflict  with  Barn- 
say,  Butler  hastily  showed  his  candle  at  the  window,  then  extin¬ 
guished  it,  and  throwing  himself  out  upon  the  roof,  scrambled 
towards  the  nearest  point  of  the  impending  branches  of  the  oak. 
Here,  without  a  moment’s  pause,  he  made  a  fearless  leap  that  flung 
him  amongst  the  boughs.  The  darkness  prevented  him  from 


460 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


clioosing  the  most  favorable  lodgment  in  the  tree,  and  he  fell  across 
a  heavy  limb  with  such  force  as  to  take  away  his  breath — receiving, 
at  the  same  time,  a  severe  contusion  in  the  head.  For  a  brief 
space  he  hung  almost  senseless,  and  there  was  reason  to  apprehend 
that  he  would  fall  in  a  swoon  to  the  ground ;  but  the  occasion 
braced  his  sinking  strength,  and  before  many  minutes  he  revived 
sufficiently  to  make  his  way  to  the  trunk,  by  which  he  descended 
safely  to  the  earth.  He  now  threw  himself  on  his  hands  and  feet, 
and  crept  to  the  garden  fence.  The  rain  still  increased,  and  fell  in 
a  heavy  shower.  In  another  instant  he  surmounted  the  barrier, 
and  betook  himself  with  his  utmost  speed  towards  the  mill,  behind 
which  he  sought  concealment  and  temporary  rest. 

“  Stand,”  said  John  Ramsay,  who  had  just  reached  this  point  on 
his  way  to  the  house,  and  now,  taken  by  surprise,  presented  a  pistol 
to  Butler’s  breast.  “  One  word  above  your  breath  and  you  die. 
Be  silent,  and  here  is  gold  for  you.” 

“  Ramsay,”  said  Butler,  in  a  low  tone,  “  is  it  you  ?” 

“  Your  name  ?”  demanded  the  trooper,  still  presenting  the  pistol. 

“  Butler,”  was  the  reply. 

“  Thanks — thanks,  good  Major,  for  that  word  !  You  have 
been  before  me.  I  thought  you  would  not  miss  this  I’ain.  Is  all 
well?” 

“  Better,  much  better,  than  we  could  have  hoped,”  answered  But¬ 
ler.  “  Seeing  the  sentinel  was  off  his  guard,  I  took  time  by  the 
forelock,  and  have  saved  you  trouble.” 

“  For  God’s  sake.  Major,  let  us  not  delay  here.  Our  horses  are 
waiting  for  us  above.” 

“  I  am  ready,”  said  Butlei’,  having  now  put  on  his  shoes.  “  My 
brave  fellow,  I  owe  you  more  than  I  can  find  words  to  utter :  lead 
the  waj^” 

The  liberated  captive  and  his  gallant  comrade  instantly  hastened 
towards  the  horses,  and  mounting  with  a  joyful  alacrity,  soon  set 
forward  at  a  gallop  in  the  direction  leading  to  David  Ramsay’s 
cottage.  Here  they  arrived  just  as  the  day  beu-an  to  dawn 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


A  MELANCHOLY  INCIDENT. 

The  hand  of  the  reaper 
Takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary, 

But  the  voice  of  the  weeper 
Wails  manliood  in  glory. — Scott, 

Brief  time  was  taken  by  the  fugitives  for  refreshment  at  David 
Ramsay’s  dwelling.  Here  Butler  put  on  the  disguise  which  Chris¬ 
topher  Shaw  had  provided  for  him.  Then  arming  himself  with  a 
pair  of  pistols  which  John  had  appropriated  to  his  use,  the  trooper 
himself  using  a  similar  precaution,  our  two  adventurers  resumed 
their  journey.  Their  first  object  was  to  gain  a  point,  some  seven 
or  eight  miles  distant,  in  the  direction  of  the  Fair  Forest,  where 
John  Ramsay  had  concealed  a  few  troopers  that  had  been  furnished 
him  by  "Williams,  to  give  their  aid,  if  necessary,  in  securing  Butler’s 
escape. 

From  this  point  they  were  to  proceed,  with  all  possible  despatch, 
to  Williams’s  camp.  However  hazardous  the  experiment  of  attempt¬ 
ing  to  traverse  the  country  in  open  daylight,  it  was  deemed  still 
more  dangerous  to  taiTy  any  length  of  time  so  near  the  scene  of 
their  late  adventure.  Butler  and  his  comrade,  therefore,  pushed 
forward  with  as  much  expedition  as  possible,  resolved  to  outrun 
the  fresh  pursuit  which  they  had  reason  to  apprehend  upon  the 
discovery  which  the  morning  must  produce  at  the  miller’s  habi¬ 
tation. 

Soon  after  sunrise  the  rain  ceased  'to  fall,  the  clouds  dispei’sed, 
and  a  fresh  and  brilliant  morning  broke  forth  upon  the  heavens. 
The  success  of  their  late  exploit  had  raised  the  spirits  of  the  wan¬ 
derers.  A  sense  of  intense  delight  animated  Butler’s  feelings :  a 
consciousness  of  liberty  once  more  enjoyed,  after  hopes  deferred 
and  almost  despairing  captivity,  seemed  to  regenerate  him  and 
make  him  acquainted  with  emotions  he  had  never  felt  before.  His 

46> 


462 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


heart  was  full  of  gratitude  to  his  new  friend  Ramsay,  and  the  ex¬ 
pression  of  it  was  warm  and  sincere.  Nature  had  never  appeared  so 
lovely  to  him  as  now  :  the  whispers  of  the  forest  and  the  murmur 
of  the  clear  brook  fell  on  his  enfranchised  ear  like  the  sweetest 
music  :  there  was  melody  for  him  even  in  the  screams  of  the  jay 
and  the  harsh  notes  of  the  crow :  and  once  when  his  companion 
had  halted  in  sight  of  a  buck  that  bounded  through  the  wood 
before  him,  Butler,  apprehensive  that  John  was  about  to  discharge 
a  bullet  after  the  forest-rover,  found  himself  involuntarily  pleading 
the  cause  of  the  noble  animal ;  “  Do  not  draw  your  pistol  on  him, 
Ramsay,  I  pray  you.  Let  him  run ;  it  is  liberty — liberty,  good 
comrade — and  that  is  sacred.” 

Before  eight  o’clock  they  had  reached  the  rendezvous.  Here  they 
found  three  troopers  who,  although  armed,  were  habited  in  the 
plain  dress  of  the  country,  which  enabled  them  to  claim  the  deno¬ 
mination  either  of  Whig  or  Tory  militia,  as  their  occasions  might 
demand.  These  men  had  lain  perdue,  for  some  days,  in  the  depth 
of  the  forest,  impatiently  awaiting  for  intelligence  from  Ramsay. 

“  Well,  Harry  Winter,”  said  John,  laughing,  “  what  say  you  now  ? 
I  have  brought  you  the  miller’s  boy  at  last.  Have  I  not  made  my 
word  good  ?” 

“  Truth,  John,”  replied  the  trooper,  “  there  is  more  stuff  in  you 
than  we  counted  on.  Macdonald  must  be  a  silly  crow  to  let  the 
fox  steal  his  cheese  from  him  so  easily.” 

“  You  would  have  come  nearer  the  mark,  Hany,  if  you  had 
called  him  a  sleepy  lout,  for  whilst  he  was  nodding  I  took  his  cake 
off  the  griddle.  It  was  fair  filching  by  night,  as  the  Major  will 
tell  you.  But  come,  lads,  here  is  no  time  for  dallying,  we  mustn’t 
have  the  grass  growing  to  our  horses’  heels,  when  we  have  a  whole 
pack  of  King  George’s  hounds  on  our  trail.  So  move,  boys  !”  and 
saying  these  words,  John  led  the  party  forward  at  a  rapid  gallop. 

They  had  not  gone  far  before  they  found  themselves  upon  a  road 
which  led  through  a  piece  of  thin  wood  that  covered  a  small  tract 
of  marshy  ground,  the  nature  of  which  brought  the  party  into  a 
more  compact  body  as  they  approached  the  narrowest  point  of  the 
defile.  At  a  short  distance  beyond  this  impediment  the  track 
became  broader,  where  it  ascended  a  hill  thickly  covered  with  an 
undergi’owth  of  bushes. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


463 


Our  friends  had  scarcely  arrived  in  the  narrow  pass  before  they 
perceived  on  the  hill  in  front  of  them,  a  company  of  some  ten  or 
fifteen  horse,  rapidly  advancing  towards  them.  In  a  moment  all 
conversation  was  checked,  and  Harry  Winter  turning  to  his  com¬ 
panions,  had  barely  time  to  remark, 

“  I  answer  all  questions :  be  silent,  and  if  asked,  swear  to  the 
truth  of  every  word  I  say — steady  :  these  fellows  are  Tories.” 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  the  foremost  of  the  strangers  had  already 
come  up  to  them. 

“  Where  from,  and  whither  do  you  go  ?”  asked  Harry  Winter, 
with  a  stern  accent. 

“  From  below  Ninety-Six,  and  on  our  road  to  Fort  Granby,”  re¬ 
plied  a  clownish  voice. 

“  Peace,  you  knave !”  interrupted  one  who  appeared  to  be  the 
leader  of  the  party,  and  whose  carriage  and  demeanor  announced 
him  to  be  an  officer ;  “  by  what  authority  do  you  undertake  to 
answer  a  challenge  on  the  highway  2  Back,  to  your  place,  sfr.” 

The  rebuked  rustic  hung  his  head,  as  he  reined  his  horse  back 
into  the  crowd  that  now  thronged  the  road. 

“  As  we  are  of  the  larger  party,”  said  the  same  person,  address¬ 
ing  himself  to  Winter,  “  we  have  the  right  to  the  word.  Who  are 
you  and  whence  come  you  ?” 

“  We  belong  to  Floyd’s  new  draft,”  replied  Winter  with  gi-eat 
coolness,  “  and  left  Winnsborough  yesterday  morning.” 

“  And  where  bound  ?” 

“  To  Augusta,  on  business  with  Brown.” 

“  Ah  ha !”  exclaimed  the  officer,  “  Brown  is  pinched  by  the  rebels. 
It  is  well  you  have  thought  of  him.  "What  have  you  to  say  to  him  ? 
Do  you  bear  despatches  ?” 

“Your  pardon,  sir — that’s  a  secret.” 

“You  need  not  be  afraid,  good  fellow,  we  are  friends.”  ^ 

“  I  can  hardly  tell  you  the  exact  business,”  repHed  Winter.  “  You  j 
will  meet  Floyd  himself  with  a  hundred  men,  before  you  ride  five  / 
miles.  I  believe  we  are  going  to  reinforce  the  garrison.”  ■■ 

“  You  will  be  very  welcome,”  said  the  Tory  officer,  “  Brown  will 
give  you  a  hearty  reception,  but  devilish  slim  fare ;  he  is  surrounded 
with  hornets.” 

“  So  much  tlie  better,”  replied  Winter,  “  we  have  a  knack  at 


464 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSOK. 


taking  the  sting  out  of  the  hornets,  nowadays.  Good  morning, 
sir.  Eeport  us,  if  you  please,  to  Colonel  Floyd,  when  you  come 
across  him,  and  tell  him  the  hour  of  the  day  when  you  met  us.” 

During  this  short  parley  the  two  parties  had  become  united  into 
a  common  throng,  completely  filling  up  the  road ;  and  the  proximity 
into  which  they  were  severally  brought,  gave  rise  to  various  in¬ 
quiries  after  news  amongst  the  subordinates  on  either  side.  In  this 
press,  Butler  was  startled  to  observe  the  eyes  of  an  individual 
scanning  him  with  a  somewhat  pointed  scrutiny,  and  it  was  with  an 
emotion  that  had  well  nigh  betrayed  him,  that  he  recognised  in 
this  person  one  of  Macdonald’s  soldiers.  It  was  the  man  whom 
the  lieutenant  had  despatched,  a  few  days  previous,  with  an  errand 
to  the  jDOst  at  Ninety-Six,  and  who  was  now  returning  with  this 
detachment  of  militia.  The  soldier  was  evidently  at  favdt,  for  in  a 
moment  afterwards  Butler  could  perceive,  from  his  expression  of 
face,  that  whatever  might  have  been  bis  first  suspicion,  it  was 
quieted  by  another  glance.  The  disguise  was  so  far  eftectual. 
But  another  cause  of  alarm  arose,  that  for  an  instant  brought  But¬ 
ler  into  greater  jeopardy.  The  horse  on  which  the  messenger  was 
mounted,  was  the  yoke-fellow  of  the  lean  Wall-Eye,  and  the  two 
beasts  had  been  long  accustomed  to  work  side  by  side  in  the  same 
wagon.  Then  mutual  recognition,  at  this  critical  moment,  became 
distressingly  conspicuous.  Their  noses  were  brought  in  contact, 
and  they  began  to  whinny  and  paw  the  gronnd  in  that  intelligible 
manner  which  constitutes  one  of  the  forms  of  expression  by  which 
this  portion  of  the  brute  creation  acknowledge  their  attachments. 
The  presence  of  mind  of  John  Kamsay  saved  the  explosion  which 
must  soon  have  followed.  He  spurred  his  horse  between  the  two  noisy 
and  restless  animals,  and  immediately  addressed  a  conversation  to 
the  soldier,  which  for  the  moment  turned  his  thoughts  into  another 
channel. 

By  this  time  the  conference  had  terminated,  and  the  two  leaders 
respectively  directing  their  men  to  move  forward,  the  defile  was 
passed  and  each  party  extricated  from  the  other.  But  no  sooner 
was  the  separation  completed  than  Butler’s  brutish  steed,  Wall-Eye, 
began  to  neigh  with  the  most  clamorous  vociferation,  whilst  a 
response  was  heard  in  the  same  tones  as  pertinaciously  reiterated 
fi'om  the  retreating  companion  on  the  other  side  of  the  defile. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


465 


“  We  were  in  great  danger  from  yonder  Tories,”  said  Ramsay, 
addressing  Butler,  “  did  you  see  that  one  of  these  fellows  rode  the 
mate  of  the  beast  you  are  on  ?  Who  could  he  be  ?” 

“  It  was  one  of  Macdonald’s  men,”  replied  Butler,  “  I  knew  the 
fellow  the  moment  we  met ;  but,  thank  Heaven,  this  humble  dress 
concealed  me.” 

“ Faster,  Major !”  cried  John,  “these  cursed  horses  are  calling 
after  each  other  now.  Pray,  push  forward  until  we  get  out  of 
hearing.  How  unlucky  that  Christopher  Shaw  should  have  given 
you  one  of  the  wagon  cattle  !” 

“  Look  back,  lads  !”  exclaimed  Winter  with  great  earnestness, 
“  there  is  something  wrong,  these  fellows  are  returning.  Whip  and 
spur,  or  we  are  overtaken  !” 

Macdonald’s  soldier,  it  seems,  having  his  attention  drawn  to  the 
singular  motions  of  his  horse,  had  become  suddenly  confirmed  in 
the  susjiicion  which  at  the  late  meeting  for  a  moment  rested  upon 
his  mind,  as  to  the  identity  of  Butler ;  and  having  communicated 
his  thought  to  the  commanding  officer,  the  whole  party  of  the 
Tory  militia  had  wheeled  about  to  demand  a  further  investigation  : 
they  were  now  some  hundred  paces  in  the  rear  of  the  fugitives,  and 
were  pressing  forward  at  high  speed,  the  officer  in  the  front  calling 
out  at  the  same  time, 

“Hold! — Rein  up  and  return  !  We  have  questions  to  ask.  Halt, 
or  we  shall  fire !” 

“To  it,  boys!”  cried  Harry  Winter.  “Your  safety  is  in  your 
legs !” 

And  the  party  pricked  onward  as  fast  as  they  could  urge  their 
cavalry  along  the  road.  The  chase  continued  for  some  half  hour 
or  more  ;  the  little  escort  of  Butler  leaving  the  road  and  plunging 
into  the  recesses  of  the  forest.  An  occasional  pistol-shot  was  fired 
during  this  retreat,  but  without  effect  on  either  side.  The  tangled 
character  of  the  ground  over  which  they  passed,  greatly  retarded 
the  pursuit,  and  before  the  half  hour  was  spent  none  but  a  few  of 
the  boldest  horsemen  of  the  assailants  Avere  found  persevering  in 
the  chase.  Seeing  their  number  diminished,  and  finding  also  that 
the  horses  of  his  own  comrades  were  beginning  to  flag,  John  Ram¬ 
say  assumed  the  command,  and  directed  his  party  to  turn  about 
and  offer  battle  to  the  pursuers.  The  immediate  effect  of  this 

20* 


46(5 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


movement  was  to  bring  the  assailants  to  a  halt,  which  was  no 
sooner  witnessed  by  John,  than  he  shouted  “  Charge,  lads,  charge, 
and  the  day  is  ours !  Hack  and  hew,  good  fellows ;  down  with 
the  bloodhounds !” 

This  animated  exhortation  was  followed  up  by  a  prompt  onset, 
in  which  the  brave  trooper  led  the  way  ;  and  such  was  the  impe¬ 
tuosity  of  the  assault  that  the  enemy,  although  consisting  of  twice 
the  number  of  those  Avho  attacked  them,  were  forced  to  give 
ground.  A  sharp  skirmish  ensued,  during  which  several  pistol- 
shots  were  discharged  on  both  sides,  and  some  encounters,  hand  to 
hand,  were  sustained  with  a  sturdy  resolution ;  but,  at  last,  our 
friends  succeeded  in  turning  then’  opponents  to  flight.  The  com¬ 
bat  had  been  maintained  in  that  pell-mell  form  of  attack  and 
defence,  which  defied  compact  or  organized  resistance ;  and  the 
indiidduals  of  each  party  had  been  scattered  over  the  wood  for  a 
considerable  distance,  so  that  when  the  late  pursuers  were  compelled 
to  retreat,  each  man  urged  his  horse  in  such  a  direction  as  was 
most  favorable  to  his  escape.  By  degrees,  Butler’s  few  compa¬ 
nions  began  to  reassemble  at  that  part  of  the  wood  where  they  had 
made  their  first  stand. 

“  There  is  nothing  like  striking  the  first  blow  at  the  right  time,” 
said  Harry  Winter,  as,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand  to  allow  the  air  to 
cool  his  brow,  he  rode  up  to  Butler,  and  halted  to  gain  breath. 
“  Give  me  a  hot  charge  on  a  slow  enemy,  and  I  don’t  care  much 
about  two  to  one  of  odds.  Thank  God  that  business  is  cleanly 
done,  and  here  we  are  all  safe  I  hope.  Where  is  John  Ramsay?” 
he  inquired,  looldng  around  him,  and  observing  that  their  comrade 
was  not  amongst  the  number  assembled. 

“  I  saw  him  close  at  the  heels  of  the  runaways,”  said  one  of  the 
men.  “  John  has  a  trick  of  seeing  a  scrimmage  to  the  end ;  and 
it  is  an  even  bet  that  he  is  now  upon  the  trail  like  a  fresh  hound. 
The  last  I  noticed  of  him  was  at  the  crupper  of  a  couple  of 
the  rascals  that,  I’ll  engage,  before  now  he  has  set  his  mark 
upon.” 

“  Then  we  must  to  his  assistance  !”  exclaimed  Butler,  eagerly  ; 
and  without  waiting  for  further  consultation  he  set  ofif  at  full  speed, 
in  the  supposed  direction  of  John  Ramsay’s  pursuit.  The  rest  fol¬ 
lowed.  They  had  ridden  some  distance  without  being  able  to 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


467 


perceive  any  traces  of  tlieir  missing  companion.  Butler  called  aloud 
upon  Ramsay,  but  there  was  no  answer  ;  and,  for  some  moments, 
there  was  an  anxious  suspense  as  the  party  halted  to  listen  for  the 
sound  of  the  footsteps  of  the  trooper’s  approach.  At  length,  a  horse 
was  seen  far  off  in  the  wood,  bounding  over  the  turf  at  a  wild  and 
frightened  pace ;  the  saddle  was  empty,  and  the  bridle-rein  hung 
about  his  feet.  On  seeing  his  companions,  the  excited  steed  set  up 
a  frequent  neigh,  and,  with  head  and  tail  erect,  coursed  imme¬ 
diately  up  to  the  group  of  horsemen.  Here  he  came  to  a  sudden 
halt,  snorting  with  the  terror  of  his  late  alarm.  There  were  drops 
of  blood  upon  the  saddle. 

“  Gracious  Heaven  !”  cried  Butler,  “  some  evil  has  befallen  Ram¬ 
say.  Scatter  and  search  the  wood.” 

It  was  with  confused  and  melancholy  earnestness  that  they  all 
now  continued  the  quest.  After  a  painful  suspense,  one  of  the 
men  was  heard  to  shout  to  the  rest  that  their  lost  comrade  was 
found.  The  summons  soon  brought  the  party  together.  Ramsay, 
pale  and  faint,  was  stretched  upon  the  grass  of  the  forest,  his 
bosom  streaming  forth  a  current  of  blood.  In  an  instant  Butler 
was  seen  stooping  over  him. 

“  Oh,  this  is  a  hea\'7  ransom,  for  my  deliverance  !”  he  said  with 
the  deepest  anguish,  as  he  raised  the  trooper’s  head  and  laid  it  on 
his  lap,  whilst  the  blood  flowed  from  the  wound.  “  Speak,  dear 
friend,  speak !  Great  God,  I  fear  this  blow  is  mortal !  Some 
water,  if  it  can  be  found — look  for  it.  Winter  ;  he  has  fainted  from 
loss  of  blood.” 

AMiilst  Harry  Winter  went  in  search  of  the  necessary  refreshment, 
Butler  tore  his  cravat  from  his  neck  and  applied  it  to  staunch  the 
wound.  The  administration  of  a  slight  draught  of  water,  after  a 
short  interval,  suflSciently  revived  the  disabled  soldier  to  enable  him 
to  speak.  He  turned  his  sickly  and  almost  quenched  eye  to 
Butler,  as  he  said  : 

“  I  was  foolish  to  follow  so  far.  I  have  it  here — here,”  he  added 
in  a  feeble  voice,  as  he  put  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  “  and  it  has 
done  my  work.  I  fought  for  you,  major,  because  I  was  proud  to 
fight  for  a  friend  ;  and  because” — here  his  voice  failed  him,  as  for 
a  moment  he  closed  his  eyes  and  faintly  uttered — “  it  is  all  over — 

I  am  dying.” 


468 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“Nay,  good  John,”  said  Butler,  whilst  the  tears  ran  down  his 
cheeks  ;  “  it  is  not  so  bad  as  that — you  are  weak  from  bleeding — 
you  will  be  better  presently.  Oh  God !  oh  God  !”  he  muttered  to 
himself,  “  I  would  not  have  had  this  to  save  my  own  life,  much 
less  hs  the  price  of  my  liberty !” 

“  I  fought  for  you,”  said  the  wounded  man,  again  reviving,  “  be¬ 
cause  Mary  wished  it.  This  will  kill  Mary,”  he  added  after  a  pause. 
“  She  warned  me  not  to  be  rash,  but  I  could  not  help  it.  Be  kind 
to  her.  Major  Butler,  and  take  care  of  her.  Tell  her  I  did  not 
fear  to  die ;  hut  for  her  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  my  poor  mother. 
Go  to  my  parents ;  let  them  know  I  thought  of  them  in  my  last 
thoughts.” 

“  John  !  John  !”  exclaimed  Butler,  unable  to  give  further  utter¬ 
ance  to  his  feelings. 

The  dying  trooper  lay  for  some  moments  silent,  and  his  com¬ 
rades  stood  around  him  in  mute  grief,  and  hung  their  heads  to 
conceal  their  emotions  from  each  other. 

“  In  my  pocket,”  said  Ramsay,  “  is  a  Testament.  Mary  gave  it 
to  me  for  a  keepsake.  Take  it  out.” 

Butler  drew  forth  the  small  volume. 

“  What  shall  I  do  with  it  ?”  he  asked,  in  a  mournful  whisper. 

“  Give  it  to  Mary,  back  from  me.  And  this  plait  of  her  hair 
upon  my  wrist,  major,  take  it  and  wear  it  on  your  own ;  it  will 
remind  you  of  my  Mary — you  will  guard  her  from  harm.” 

“  Before  God,  John  Ramsay,”  said  Butler  with  solemn  fervor,  “I 
promise  you,  that,  while  I  live,  she  shall  not  want.  Your  parents, 
too,  shall  be  my  special  care.” 

“  Then  I  shall  die  with  easier  heart.  Thanks,  thanks — friends, 
farewell !”  feebly  ejaculated  the  stricken  soldier,  whose  eye, 
already  glazed  with  the  pangs  of  death,  now  glanced  upon  the 
attending  group,  and  after  a  brief  but  painful  interval  closed  in 
darkness. 

John  Ramsay  spake  no  more,  and  his  short  breathing  showed 
that  life  was  fast  ebbing  in  its  channel.  The  audible  sobs  of 
Butler,  for  some  moments,  were  alone  heard  in  the  circle,  as  he  sat 
supporting  the  head  and  gTasping  the  hand  of  his  brave  comrade. 
The  struggle  was  at  last  over,  and  the  gallant  spirit  of  the  generous 


H0E8E  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


469 


soldier  had  fled.  Butler  took  fi-om  the  wrist  the  bracelet  of  Mary’s 
hair,  which  was  now  stained  with  the  blood  of  its  late  owner,  and, 
with  an  earnest  vow  to  redeem  his  promise,  drew  it  over  his  own 
hand. 

The  scene  that  followed  this  melancholy  adventure  was  one  of 
solemn  interest.  The  proximity  of  the  enemy,  although  defeated, 
rendered  a  delay  at  this  spot,  in  the  present  circumstances  of  Butler, 
exceedingly  hazardous ;  yet  he  could  not  entertain  the  thought  of 
continuing  his  journey  until  he  had  communicated  to  David  Ram¬ 
say  the  distressing  tidings  of  his  son’s  death.  The  last  request  of 
John  seemed  also  to  impose  this  task  upon  him  as  a  sacred  obli¬ 
gation,  due  to  the  friendship  which  had  terminated  in  so  disastrous 
an  end.  Butler’s  resolution,  therefore,  was  soon  taken.  He  deter¬ 
mined  immediately,  at  all  hazards,  to  make  his  way  back  to  Ram¬ 
say’s  cottage,  and  to  endeavor  to  console  the  afflicted  parents  under 
their  severe  bereavement.  Disdaining,  in  his  present  state  of  feel¬ 
ing,  the  disguise  that  seemed  to  make  him  almost  a  stranger  to 
himself,  he  threw  aside  the  miller’s  dress  and  again  appeared  m 
his  true  character,  resolved  manfully  to  meet  what  he  now  believed 
to  be  the  almost  certain  result — a  recapture  with  all  its  probable 
consequences.  Some  of  his  party,  who  were  acquainted  with  the 
localities  of  their  present  position,  suggested  to  him  that  a  Whig 
family  of  the  name  of  Drummond  resided  at  no  great  distance 
from  the  scene  of  the  late  encounter,  and  that,  by  bearing  the  body 
to  this  place,  they  might  secure  for  it  a  decent  burial.  The  remains 
of  the  trooper  were  accordingly  laid  upon  a  rude  litter,  and  his 
mourning  comrades  slowly  and  sorrowfully  wended  their  Avay 
through  the  forest  to  the  designated  habitation.  Here  they 
arrived  about  noon,  having  traversed  a  space  of  more  than  two 
miles  to  gain  this  asylum. 

Drummond  was  a  woodman,  and  occupied  a  rude  cabin,  with  a 
small  clearing  around  it,  in  the  depths  of  the  wilderness,  so  remote 
from  the  highway  as  to  jiromise  as  much  security  from  the  quest 
of  tlie  enemy,  as  might  be  expected  from  any  portion  of  the  region 
in  which  he  lived.  He  received  his  guests  with  kindness  ;  and  as 
he  was  himself  acquainted  ivitli  the  family  of  the  deceased,  he 
exhibited  a  lively  sympathy  with  the  mourners  around  the  body. 


470 


HORSE  SHOE  ROSINSON. 


When  Butler  now  made  known  his  purpose  to  set  out  imme¬ 
diately  for  the  habitation  of  David  Kamsay,  Winter  asked  permis¬ 
sion  to  accompany  him,  but  the  woodman  interposed,  and  recom¬ 
mended  that  he  alone  should  he  permitted  to  perform  that  errand, 
leaving  the  others  to  remain  with  the  corpse  until  his  return. 

“  It  is,  before  all  others,  my  duty,”  said  Butler ;  “  and  come 
what  may,  I  will  perform  it.” 

“  Then  we  will  go  together,”  added  the  proprietor  of  the  cabin. 
“  It  will  be  wise  to  wait  until  the  day  is  a  little  more  spent,  and 
return  in  the  darkness  of  the  night.  David  Ramsay  will  come 
back  with  us.  He  would  like  to  see  his  son  before  we  put  him  in 
the  ground.” 

“  That  shall  be  as  you.  please,  friend,”  said  Butler.  “  I  will  be 
under  your  guidance.” 

An  hour  or  two-before  sun-down,  Butler  and  his  new  companion 
left  the  cabin,  and  took  their  route  across  the  woods  towards  Ram¬ 
say’s  dwelling,  leaving  the  dead  body  in  charge  of  the  woodman’s 
family  and  the  three  soldiers.  The  distance  they  had  to  travel 
did  not  exceed  eight  miles.  The  repulse  of  the  Tory  party  in  the 
skirmish  of  the  morning  seemed  to  have  induced  a  behef,  on  the 
part  of  the  enemy,  that  the  fugitives  had  made  a  successful  retreat 
which  was  now  beyond  pursuit,  and  there  were,  in  consequence,  no 
parties  on  the  road  to  molest  the  travellers.  Under  these  circum¬ 
stances,  it  was  still  daylight  when  they  came  in  view  of  David 
Ramsay’s  homestead. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


Great  agitation  prevailed  at  Macdonald’s  post,  when  the  morning 
disclosed  the  escape  of  Butler.  The  lieutenant  was  conscious  that 
this  mischance  had  exposed  him  to  the  risk  of  heavy  censure,  and, 
as  was  natural  to  a  man  who  could  not  entirely  acquit  himself  of 
some  neglect  in  the  performance  of  his  duty,  his  first  measures 
were  taken  in  a  spirit  of  peevish  and  angry  severity.  Small  parties 
were  sent  out  to  explore  the  neighborhood,  with  a  view  to  gain 
intelligence  of  the  direction  taken  hy  the  fugitive,  with  orders 
to  bring  him  in  dead  or  alive.  The  sentinels  who  were  on  duty 
during  the  night  were  arrested,  and  subjected  to  a  rigid  examina¬ 
tion  on  the  events  of  their  watch ;  the  several  members  of  Mus- 
grove’s  family  were  also  interrogated  as  to  matters  touching  their 
own  connexion  with  the  prisoner.  Nothing,  however,  was  gathered 
from  these  investigations  that  was  calculated  to  cast  a  suspicion  of 
connivance  in  Butler’s  liberation,  upon  any  individual  either  of  the 
gan-ison  or  of  the  family.  It  was  only  apparent  that  the  prisoner 
had  availed  himself  of  the  remissness  of  the  guard  and  the  dark¬ 
ness  of  the  night,  to  make  a  bold  descent  from  the  window  ;  and 
had  succeeded  by  one  of  those  lucky  accidents  which  sometimes 
baffle  the  most  cautious  foresight.  The  nature  of  the  attempt  did 
not  necessarily  suppose  the  aid  of  an  accomplice,  and  a  faint  hope 
was,  therefore,  entertained  that  Butler  would  be  found  still  lurking 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  post. 

In  the  coiu-se  of  a  few  hours,  the  fii-st  parties  that  had  been  dis¬ 
patched  in  the  morning,  returned.  They  could  give  no  accoimt  of 
the  prisoner ;  nor  was  there  any  light  thrown  upon  the  escape, 
until  about  the  dinner  hour,  when  a  portion  of  the  detachment  which 
had  intercepted  Butler  and  liis  comrades  in  the  morning,  arrived  at 
the  mill,  under  the  conduct  of  the  soldier  whose  suspicions  had  led 
to  the  pui-suit  and  skirmish  which  we  have  already  described.  The 
report  of  these  men  left  Macdonald  no  room  to  doubt  the  identity 

471 


4*72  HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

of  Butler  with  the  person  described.  A  further  examination,  at 
the  suggestion  of  the  soldier,  showed  that  Wall-Eye,  the  wagon- 
horse,  was  missing ;  and  it  now  became  certain  that  Butler  had 
been  aided  by  a  party  of  the  enemy  with  whom  he  must  have  been 
in  correspondence.  The  conclusion  was,  that  with  his  means  of 
flight  there  could  be  little  doubt  of  his  being,  long  before  the  pre¬ 
sent  period  of  the  day,  out  of  the  reach  of  successful  pursuit. 
The  scheme  was  laid  to  the  account  of  Horse  Shoe  Robinson, 
whose  name  and  adventures  were  already  famous  in  this  district; 
and  it  was  conjectured  that  Sumpter  was  secretly  posted  in  some 
neighboring  fastness  to  give  his  assistance  to  the  enterprise. 

With  these  reflections,  Macdonald  felt  himself  obliged  to  submit 
to  the  exigencies  of  the  case ;  a  point  of  philosophy  which  he  did 
not  practise  without  a  very  \dsible  chagrin  and  mortification.  His 
men  were  called  together,  and  after  a  short,  fretful  lecture  on  their 
neglect,  and  an  injunction  to  a  more  soldier-like  vigilance  in  future, 
which  savored  of  the  caution  of  locking  the  stable  after  the  steed 
was  stolen,  they  were  dismissed. 

About  an  hour  before  sun-down,  Allen  Musgrove  and  Mary, 
availing  themselves  of  the  confusion  and  relaxed  discipline  of  the 
post,  occasioned  by  the  events  of  the  morning,  set  out  on  horseback 
for  David  Ramsay’s  dwelling,  whither  they  were  led  by  a  natural 
anxiety  to  learn  something  of  the  movements  of  the  fugitives. 

“  It’s  a  pleasure  and  a  happiness,  Allen  Musgrove,”  said  Mistress 
Ramsay,  as  the  miller  and  his  daughter  sat  down  in  the  cabin,  “  to 
see  you  and  Mary  over  here  with  us  at  any  time,  but  it  Is  specially 
so  now  when  we  have  good  news  to  tell.  .John  and  his  friend  are 
safe  out  of  reach  of  Macdonald’s  men,  and — God  be  praised ! — I 
hope  out  of  the  way  of  all  other  harms.  We  have  had  soldiers 
dodging  in  and  out  through  the  day,  but  not  one  of  them  has 
made  any  gueSs  what’s  gone  with  the  major;  and  as  for  John, 
they  don’t  seem  to  suspect  him  to  be  on  the  country-side.  It’s  all 
Horse  Shoe  Robinson  with  them.  They  say  that  none  but  he  could 
have  helped  to  get  the  major  away,  and  that  General  Sumpter 
was  the  instigator.  Well,  I’m  sure  they  were  welcome  to  that 
opinion,  for  it  set  them  all  to  looking  over  towards  Broad  river, 
which  is  as  good  a  direction  as  we  could  wish  them  to  travel.” 

“  The  less  you  seem  to  know  about  it,  Avith  any  of  these  inquiring 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


4'7S 


parties,  the  better,  Mistress  Ramsay,”  said  Allen  Musgrove,  “  and 
would  advise  you,  even  here  amongst  ourselves,  to  speak  lower 
David,  what  do  you  hear  this  evening  ?” 

“  Nothing  concerning  our  runaways  since  they  left  us  at  daylight 
this  morning,”  replied  Ramsay.  “  I  should  guess  them  to  be  some¬ 
where  near  upon  Fair  Forest  by  this  time.  You  know  Williams  is 
outlying  upon  the  upper  branches  of  the  river  ?  It  is  more  like 
hunted  deer,  Allen,  than  Christian  men,  that  our  poor  fellows  take 
to  the  woods  now.  God  knows  what  will  come  of  it !” 

“  lie  knows  and  has  appointed  it,”  said  Musgrove,  gravely,  “  and 
will  in  His  own  good  time  and  with  such  instruments  as  shall  faith¬ 
fully  work  His  purpose,  give  the  victory  to  them  that  have  the 
right.  Man,  woman,  and  child  may  perish,  and  house  and  home 
may  be  burnt  over  our  heads,  and  the  blood  of  brave  men  may 
make  the  dust  of  the  road  red  ;  yes,  and  the  pastures  rich  as  if 
new  laid  with  manure  ;  but  the  will  of  God  shall  be  done  and  His 
providence  be  accomplished.  The  cause  of  the  just  shall  prevail 
against  the  unjust.” 

“  There  were  no  soldiers,”  inquired  Mary,  addressing  David 
Ramsay,  “  that  you  have  heard  of,  who  followed  towards  Fair 
Forest  ?  I  should  be  sorry  if  John  was  to  be  troubled  with  persons 
going  after  him ;  because,” — the  maiden  hesitated  an  instant, — 
“because  it’s  unpleasant  and  disagreeable  to  be  obliged  to  be 
riding  off  the  road,  through  bushes  and  briers,  to  keep  out  of  the 
way.” 

“  If  they  were  not  greatly  an  overmatch,  girl,”  interrupted 
Ramsay,  “  John  wouldn’t  give  himself  much  trouble  upon  that 
account.” 

“  Oh,  Mr.  Ramsay,”  said  Mary  earnestly,  “  I  was  thinking  of  that. 
It’s  hard  to  say  what  John  would  call  an  overmatch  :  men  are  so 
headstrong  and  venturesome.” 

“  That’s  God’s  own  truth,  Mary,”  interposed  Mrs.  Ramsay  ;  “  and 
what  I  have  always  been  telling  David  and  John  both.  But  they 
never  heed  me,  no  more  than  if  I  was  talking  to  the  child  in 
that  cradle.” 

“  I’ve  told  John  as  much  myself,”  said  Mary,  blushing. 

“  And  he  would  not  heed  you  either,”  inteirupted  her  father. 
“  A  soldier  would  have  a  holiday  life  of  it,  if  he  followed  the  advice 


iU 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


of  his  mother  or  his  sweetheart.  Daughter,  amongst  friends  here, 
you  needn’t  blush  ;  we  know  more  of  the  secrets  betwixt  you  and 
the  trooper  lad  than  you  count  upon.  John’s  a  clever  boy,  Mistress 
Ramsay,  and  I  think  you  have  reason  to  brag  of  him  somewhat ; 
and  as  there’s  particular  good-will  between  him  and  my  Mary,  I’ll 
not  stand  in  the  way  when  the  war  is  over,  if  God  spares  us  all, 
and  Mary  and  the  lad  keep  in  the  same  mind  ;  I’ll  not  stand  in  the 
way  of  a  new  settlement  in  the  neighborhood.  Mary  is  a  good 
daughter,  well  nurtured,  and — I  don’t  care  to  say  it  to  her  face — 
will  make  a  thriving  wife.” 

The  mother  smiled  as  she  replied,  “  I  don’t  pretend  to  know  the 
young  people’s  secrets,  but  I  know  this,  you  don’t  think  better  of 
Mary  than  John  does — nor  than  me  neither,  perhaps.” 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  knocking  at  the  door, 
and,  in  a  moment  afterwards,  Arthur  Butler  and  the  woodman 
entered  the  apartment. 

“  Major  Butler,  as  I  am  a  living  woman !”  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Ramsay. 

“  Om-  good  friend  himself!”  ejaculated  Musgrove,  with  surprise. 
“  What  has  turned  you  back  ?  And  Gabriel  Drummond  here 
too  1  What  has  happened  ?” 

“  Where  is  my  son  John  ?”  demanded  Ramsay.  “  Are  you  fol¬ 
lowed  ?” 

Butler  walked  up  to  Mrs.  Ramsay,  and,  as  a  tear  started  to  his 
eye,  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  stood  for  a  moment  unable  to  speak. 

“  Oh,  heaven  have  mercy  on  me  1”  screamed  Mary  Musgrove,  as 
she  threw  herself  upon  a  bed,  “  something  dreadful  has  happened.” 

“  For  God’s  sake,  speak  what  you  have  to  tell !”  said  David 
Ramsay,  instantly  turning  pale. 

“John  Ramsay  is  hurt,”  faintly  articulated  the  mother,  and 
Mary,  rising  from  the  bed,  stood  beside  Butler  with  a  countenance 
on  which  was  seated  the  most  agonizing  attention.  Andy,  the 
hero  of  the  exploit  we  have  heretofore  related,  also  pressed  into  the 
presence  of  the  same  group,  and  a  death-like  silence  pervaded  the 
whole  party. 

Butler,  with  an  ineflfectual  effort  to  recover  himself,  turned  to 
Drummond,  making  a  sign  to  him  to  tell  the  object  of  their  melan- 
eholy  errand,  and  then  flung  himself  into  a  chair. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


475 


“Joliu  Ramsay  is  dead,”  said  the  woodman,  in  a  mournful 
tone.  “  Your  son,  mistress  Ramsay,  was  shot  in  a  fray  'svdth  the 
bloody,  villanous  Tories.  The  heartiest  curses  upon  them  !”^ 

“Killed,  dear  madam,”  said  Butler,  scarce  able  to  articulate, 
“killed  in  my  defence.  Would  to  God  the  blow  had  fallen  upon 
my  own  head !” 

“  Oh,  no,  no,  no !”  exclaimed  the.  matron,  as  a  flood  of  tears 
rolled  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  endeavored  to  wipe  them  away 
with  her  apron.  “  It  isn’t  true.  It  can’t  be  true.  My  poor,  dear, 

brave  boy !”  _  _ 

At  the  same  instant  Mary  Musgrove  fell  insensible  into  the  anus 
of  her  father,  where  it  was  some  moments  before  she  gave  signs  of 
animation.  At  lengtli,  being  laid  upon  the  bed,  a  deep  groan/ 
escaped  her,  which  was  followed  by  the  most  piteous  wailing.  J 

The  scene  wrought  upon  the  younger  members  of  the  family, 
who,  as  well  as  the  domestics,  were  heard  pouring  forth  deep  and 
loud  lamentations,  accompanied  with  reiterated  announcements  of 
the  death  of  the  soldier. 

When  this  first  burst  of  the  general  grief  was  over,  David 
Ramsay  arose  from  his  seat  and  walked  across  the  room  to  a 
window,  where  he  stood  endeavoring  to  compose  and  master  his 
feelings.  At  length,  facing  Butler,  he  said  in  a  low  and  tranquil 
tone, 

“  John  Ramsay,  my  son,  killed,  killed  in  a  skirmish  ?  God  is 
my  witness,  I  expected  it !  It  was  his  failing  to  follow  his  enemy 
with  too  hot  a  hand;  and  I  am  to  blame,  perhaps,  that  I  never 
checked  him  in  that  temper.  But  he  died  like  a  man  and  a 
soldier.  Major  Butler,”  he  added,  firmly. 

“  He  died  in  my  arms,”  replied  Butler,  “  as  bravely  as  ever 
soldier  closed  his  life,  his  last  thoughts  were  fixed  upon  his  parents, 
and — 

“Dead!”  interrupted  Ramsay,  as  if  communing  with  himself, 
and  regardless  of  Butler’s  words — “  Dead !  He  fell  doing  his  duty 
to  his  country,  that’s  a  consolation.  A  man  cannot  die  better.  If 
it  please  God,  I  hope  my  end  may  bo  like  his.  Andrew,  my  boy, 
come  here.  You  are  now  my  oldest  living  son,”  he  said,  taking 
tlie  lad’s  hand  and  looking  him  full  in  the  face,  as  he  spoke  with  a 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


476 

Ditter  compression  of  his  lips  ;  “  I  am  -willing,  much  as  I  love  you, 
that  the  country  should  have  you.” 

“  No,  Daidd,  David,”  interrupted  the  mother,  rousing  herself 
from  her  silent  grief,  “  we  have  given  enough  ;  no  other  child  of 
mine  shall  venture  in  the  war.  John  !  John  !  John !  my  dear  boy, 
my  brave  son  !  How  good  and  kind  he  was  to  us  all !  And  how- 
glad  he  was  to  get  home  to  see  us  ;  and  how  much  we  made  of 
him  !” 

“  Silence,  wife,”  said  Da-vid  Ramsay,  “  this  is  no  time  to  hold 
back  from  our  duty.  Andrew,  listen  to  me :  remember  your 
brother  has  met  his  death  fighting  against  these  monsters,  ivho 
hate  the  very  earth  that  nurses  liberty.  You  are  young,  boy,  but 
you  can  handle  a  musket ;  'we  will  not  forget  your  brother’s  death.” 

“Nor  the  burning  of  a  good  house  over  your  head,  and  a  full 
barn,  father ;  nor  the  frights  they  have  given  my  poor  mother.” 

“  Nor  the  thousands  of  brave  men,”  added  the  father,  “  who 
have  poured  out  their  blood  to  give  us  a  land  and  laws  of  our  own. 
My  boy,  we  will  remember  these,  for  vengeance.” 

“Not  for  vengeance,”  said  Allen  Musgrove,  “for  justice,  David. 
Your  enemy  should  be  remembered  only  to  prevent  him  from 
doing  mischief.  The  Lord  will  give  him  sword  and  buckler,  spear 
and  shield,  who  stands  up  for  the  true  cause  ;  and  when  it  pleases 
Him  to  require  the  sacrifice  of  life  from  the  faithful  servant  who 
fights  the  battle,  he  grants  patience  and  courage  to  meet  the  trial. 
Your  son  was  not  the  man,  Da-vid,  to  turn  his  face  away  from  the 
work  that  was  before  him  ;  may  God  receive  him  and  comfort  his 
distressed  family !  He  was  an  honest  and  brave  son,  David 
Ramsay.” 

“A  braver  soldier  never  buckled  on  broadsword,  Allen  Mus¬ 
grove,”  replied  the  father.  “  Yes,  I  looked  for  this ;  ever  since  my 
dwelling  was  levelled  to  the  ground  by  these  firebrands,  I  looked 
for  it.  John’s  passion  was  up  then,  and  I  knew  the  thoughts  that 
ran  through  his  mind.  Ever  since  that  day  his  feelings  have  been 
most  bitter ;  and  he  has  flung  himself  amongst  the  Tories,  making 
as  httle  account  of  them  as  the  mower  when  he  puts  his  scythe 
into  the  grass  of  the  meadows.” 

“  God  forgive  him,  Da-vid !”  said  Musgrove,  “  and  strengthen 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSOH. 


47*7 

you  and  the  boy’s  good  mother  in  this  sharp  hour  of  trial.  They 
who  draw  the  sword  in  passion  may  stand  in  fear  of  the  judgment 
of  the  sword :  it  is  a  fearful  thing  for  sinful  man  to  shed  blood  for 
any  end  hut  that  of  lawful  war,  and  at  the  bidding  of  his  country. 
God  alone  is  the  avenger.” 

Mary  had  again  raised  herself  from  the  bed,  and  at  this  moment 
gave  vent  to  her  feelings  in  a  loud  and  bitter  lamentation.  “  John 
Ramsay  is  dead,  is  dead !”  she  exclaimed.  “  I  cannot  believe  it. 
He  that  was  so  true  and  so  warm-hearted,  and  that  everybody 
loved !  They  could  not  kill  him  !  Oh,  I  begged  him  to  keep  his 
foot  from  danger,  aiid  he  promised  me,  for  my  sake,  to  be  careful. 
I  loved  him,  father ;  I  never  told  you  so  much  before,  but  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  tell  it  now  before  everybody ;  I  loved  him  better  than 
all  the  world.  And  we  had  promised  -each  other.  It  is  so  hard 
to  lose  them  that  we  love !”  she  continued,  sobbing  violently. 
“  He  was  so  brave  and  so  good,  and  he  was  so  handsome,  Mrs. 
Ramsay,  and  so  dutiful  to  you  and  his  father,  coming  home  to  see 
you  whenever  the  war  would  let  him.  And  he  walked,  and  rode,  and 
ran,  and  fought  for  his  friends,  and  them  that  he  cared  for.  He 
was  so  thoughtful  for  your  comfort  too,”  she  added,  as  she  threw 
herself  on  her  knees  and  rested  her  head  in.  the  lap  of  the  mother, 
and  there  paused  through  a  long  interval,  during  which  nothing 
was  heard  but  her  own  moans  mingled  with  the  sighs  of  the  party, 
“  we  were  to  be  married  after  this  war  was  at  an  end,  and  thought 
we  should  live  so  happily ;  but  they  have  murdered  him !  Oh 
they  have  murdered  him,”  and  with  her  hair  thrown  in  disorder 
over  her  face,  she  again  gave  vent  to  a  flood  of  tears. 

“  Mary,  daughter !  Shame  on  you,  girl !”  said  her  father.  “  Do 
you  forget,  in  the  hour  of  your  affliction,  that  you  have  a  friend 
who  is  able  to  comfort  ?  There  is  one  who  can  heal  up  your  sor¬ 
rows  and  speak  peace  to  your  troubled  spirit,  if  you  be  not  too 
proud  to  ask  it.  I  have  taught  you,  daughter,  in  all  time  of  tribu¬ 
lation  to  look  to  Him  for  patience  and  for  strength  to  bear  adver¬ 
sity.  Why  do  you  neglect  this  refuge  now  ?” 

“  Our  Father,”  said  the  maiden,  fervently  clasping  her  hands  and 
lifting  up  her  eyes,  now  dim  with  weeping,  as  she  appealed  to  God 
in  prayer,  “  who  art  in  heaven — teach  us  all  to  say  thy  will  be  done. 
Take — take — my  dear  John — Oh  ray  heart  will  burst  and  I  shall 


478 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


die  !”  she  uttered,  almost  overwhelmed  with  her  emotions,  as  she 
again  bjiried  her  face  in  Mistress  Ramsay’s  lap — “  I  cannot 
speak !” 

A  silence  of  inexpressible  agony  prevailed  for  some  moments. 
This  was  at  length  interrupted  by  the  uprising  of  the  full,  clear, 
and  firm  voice  of  Allen  Musgrove,  who  now  broke  forth  from  the 
opposite  side  of  a  room  where  he  had  kneeled  before  a  chair,  in  an 
earnest  and  impressive  supplication  to  the  Deity,  urged  with  all 
that  eloquence  which  naturally  flows  from  deeply-excited  feeling. 
From  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  as  well  as  from  the  habitually 
religious  temper  of  the  family  assembled  in  the  little  cabin,  the 
words  of  the  prayer  fell  upon  the  hearts  of  those  present  with  a 
singularly  welcome  efi'ect,  and,  for  the  moment,_ brought  tranquillity 
to  theh  feelings. 

When  the  prayer  was  ended,  the  giief  of  the  mourners  rolled 
back  in  its  former  flood,  and  burst  from  Mary  Musgrove  in  the 
most  heart-rending  bitterness.  Paroxysm  followed  paroxysm  with 
fearful  violence,  and  these  outbreaks  rvere  responded  to  by  the 
mother  with  scarcely  less  intensity.  All  attempts  at  consolation,  on 
the  part  of  the  men,  w'ere  unavailing ;  and  it  was  apparent  that 
nothing  remained  but  to  l6t  the  tide  of  anguish  take  its  own 
course. 

It  was  now  some  time  after  night-fall,  when  Butler  and  Drum¬ 
mond  beckoned  Allen  Musgrove  to  leave  the  room.  They  retired 
into  the  open  air  in  front  of  the  house,  where  they  were  imme¬ 
diately  joined  by  David  Ramsay.  Here  Butler  communicated  to 
them  the  necessity  of  making  immediate  arrangements  for  their 
return  to  the  woodman’s  cottage,  and  for  the  burial  of  the  deceased 
trooper.  His  advice  was  adopted,  and  it  was  resolved  that  Mus¬ 
grove  and  Ramsay  should  accompany  the  other  two  to  the  spot. 
Before  the  consultation  was  closed,  Andy  had  come  into  the  group, 
and  he  was  now  directed,  wdth  all  haste,  to  throw  a  saddle  upon 
his  father’s  horse. 

“  You,  Andrew,  my  son,”  said  David  Ramsay,  “  will  stay  at  home 
and  comfort  your  poor  mother,  and  Mary.  Speak  to  them,  boy, 
and  persuade  them  to  give  up  their  useless  lamentations.  It  is  the 
will  of  God,  and  we  ought  not  to  murmur  at  it.” 

“  The  burning,  father,”  replied  the  boy,  with  a  sorrowful-  earnest- 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


4*79 


ness,  “  and  the  fighting,  and  the  frights  we  have  had,  was  all  no¬ 
thing  to  this.  I  never  felt  before  how  terrible  the  war  was.” 

Andy  had  now  gone  to  eqiii^the  horse,  and  the  men  returned 
to  the  inside  of  the  cabin,  where  they  sat  in  profound  silence.  But¬ 
ler,  at  length,  rose  from  the  door-sill  where  he  had  taken  his  seat, 
and  crossing  the  room,  took  a  position  by  the  bed  on  which  Mary 
Musgrove  had  thrown  herself,  and  where  she  now  lay  uttering  faint 
and  half-smothered  moans. 

“  I  have  a  remembrance  for  you,”  he  said,  stooping  down  and 
speaking  scarce  above  a  whisper  in  the  maiden’s  ear  ;  “  I  promised 
to  deliver  it  into  your  hand.  God  knows  with  what  pain  I  per¬ 
form  my  office !  John  enjoined  upon  me  to  give  you  this,”  he 
continued,  as  he  presented  to  her  the  little  copy  of  the  Testament, 
“  and  to  say  to  you  that  his  last  thoughts  were  given  to  you  and 
his  mother.  He  loved  you,  Mary,  better  than  he  loved  any  living 
creature  in  this  world.” 

“  He  did,  he  did,”  sobbed  forth  the  girl ;  “  and  I  loved  him  far 
above  family,  friends,  kinsfolk  and  all — I  wish  I  were  dead  by 
his  side.” 

“  Take  the  book,”  said  Butler,  hardly  able  to  articulate.  “  God 
for  ever  bless  you,”  he  added,  after  a  pause  of  weeping,  “  and  bring 
you  comfort !  I  have  promised  John  Ramsay,  that  neither  you, 
nor  any  of  his  family,  shall  ever  want  the  service  of  a/riend,  while  I 
have  life  or  means  to  render  it.  Before  Heaven,  that  pledge  shall 
be  redeemed  !  Farewell,  farewell !  God  bless  you  !” 

As  Butler  uttered  these  words  he  grasped  the  maiden’s  hand  and 
pressed  it  fervently  to  his  lips ;  then  turning  to  the  mother,  he 
addressed  some  phrase  of  comfort  to  her,  and  hastily  left  the  room. 
Scarcely  a  sound  was  heard  from  any  one,  except  the  low  sobbing 
of  the  exhausted  weepers,  and  the  almost  convulsive  kisses  which 
Mary  imprinted  upon  the  little  book  that  Butler  had  put  into  her 
hand. 

Musgrove,  Ramsay,  and  the  woodman,  retired  from  the  apart¬ 
ment  at  the  same  moment ;  and  the  horses  being  ready  at  the 
door,  the  retreating  beat  of  the  hoofs  upon  the  turf  gave  notice  to 
the  in-dwellers  that  the  four  men  had  set  forward  on  then-  journey. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 


A  RUSTIC  FUNERAL. 

How  glumly  sounds  yon  dirgy  song ; 

Night  ravens  flap  the  wing. — Burger's  Leonora, 

By  eleven  o’clock  at  night,  Butler  and  the  party  from  Ramsay’s 
arrived  at  the  woodman’s  cabin.  Winter  and  his  comrades  had 
been  busy  in  making  preparations  for  the  funeral.  The  body  had 
been  laid  out  upon  a  table,  a  sheet  thrown  over  it,  and  a  pine  torch 
blazed  from  the  chimney  wall  close  by,  and  flung  its  broad,  red 
glare  over  the  apartment.  An  elderly  female,  the  wife  of  the  wood¬ 
man,  and  two  or  three  children,  sat  quietly  in  the  room.  The 
small  detachment  of  troopers  loitered  around  the  corpse,  walking 
with  stealthy  pace  across  the  floor,  and  now  and  then  adjusting 
such  matters  of  detail  in  the  arrangements  for  the  interment  as 
required  their  attention.  A  rude  coffin,  hastily  constructed  of  such 
materials  as  were  at  hand,  was  deposited  near  the  table.  A  solemn 
silence  prevailed,  which  no  less  consisted  with  the  gloom  of  the 
occasion  than  with  the  late  hour  of  the  night. 

When  the  newly  arrived  party  had  dismounted  and  entered  the 
apartment,  a  short  salutation,  in  suppressed  tones,  was  exchanged, 
and  without  further  delay,  the  whole  company  set  themselves  to 
the  melancholy  duty  that  was  before  them.  David  Ramsay  ap¬ 
proached  the  body,  and,  turning  the  sheet  down  from  the  face, 
stood  gazing  on  the  features  of  his  son.  There  was  a  settled 
frown  upon  his  brow  that  contrasted  signally  with  the  composed 
and  tranquil  lineaments  of  the  deceased.  The  father  and  son  pre¬ 
sented  a  strange  and  remarkable  type  of  life  and  death — the  coun¬ 
tenance  of  the  mourner  stamped  by  the  agitation  of  keen,  living  emo¬ 
tion,  and  the  object  mourned  bearing  the  impress  of  a  serene,  placid, 
and  passionless  repose  ; — the  one  a  vivid  picture  of  misery,  the  other 
a  quiet  image  of  happy  sleep.  David  Ramsay  bent  his  looks  upon 

480 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


481 


the  body  for  some  minutes,  without  an  endeavor  to  speak,  and  at 
last  retreated  towards  the  door,  striking  his  hand  upon  his  forehead 
as  he  breathed  out  the  ejaculation,  “My  son,  my  son,  how  willingly 
would  I  change  places  with  you  this  night !” 

Allen  Musgrove  \vas  less  agitated  by  the  spectacle,  and  whilst  he 
surveyed  the  features  of  the  deceased,  his  lips  were  moved  with  the 
utterance  of  a  short  and  almost  inaudible  prayer.  Then  turning  to 
Drummond,  he  inquired  :  “  Has  the  grave  been  thought  of  ?  Who 
has  attended  to  the  preparations  ?” 

“  It  has  been  thought  of,”  replied  the  woodman  ;  “  I  sent  two 
of  my  people  off  to  dig  it  before  I  went  with  Major  Butler  to  see 
David.  We  have  a  grave-yard  across  in  the  woods,  nigh  a  mile 
from  this,  and  I  thought  it  best  that  John  Kamsay  should  be  buried 
there.” 

“  It  was  kindly  thought  on  by  you,  Gabriel,”  replied  Musgrove. 
“  You  have  your  father  and  others  of  your  family  in  that  spot. 
David  Ramsay  will  thank  you  for  it.” 

“  I  do,  heartily,”  said  Ramsay,  “  aijd  will  remember  it,  Gabriel, 
at  another  time.” 

“  Let  the  body  be  lifted  into  the  coffin,”  said  Musgrove. 

The  order  was  promptly  executed  by  Harry  Winter  and  the 
other  troopers.  In  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  the  rough  boards 
which  had  been  provided  to  close  up  the  box  or  coffin,  were  laid  in 
their  appropriate  places,  and  Winter  had  just  begun  to  hammer 
the  nails  into  them,  when  from  the  outside  of  the  cabin  was  heard 
a  wild  and  piercing  scream,  that  fell  so  suddenly  upon  the  ears 
of  those  within  as  to  cause  the  trooper  to  drop  the  hammer  from 
his  hand.  In  one  moment  more,  Mary  Musgrove  rushed  into  the 
room  and  fell  prostrate  upon  the  floor.  She  was  instantly  followed 
by  Andrew. 

“  God  of  heaven  !”  exclaimed  Butler,  “  here  is  misery  upon 
misery.  This  poor  girl’s  brain  is  crazed  by  her  misfortune.  This 
is  worst  of  all !” 

“  Mary,  Mary,  my  child  !”  ejaculated  Musgrove,  as  he  raised  his 
daughter  into  his  arms.  “  What  madness  has  come  upon  you, 
that  you  should  have  wandered  here  to-night !” 

“  How  has  this  happened,  Andrew  ?”  said  David  Ramsay,  all 
speaking  in  the  same  breath. 

21 


482 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  When  Mary  heard,”  replied  Andrew,  in  answer  to  his  father’s 
question,  “  that  you  had  all  come  to  Gabriel  Drummond’s  to  bury 
my  brother,  she  couldn’t  rest  content ;  and  she  prayed  so  pitifully 
to  come  after  you,  and  see  him  before  they  put  him  in  the  ground, 
that  I  thought  it  right  to  tell  her  that  I  would  come  with  her. 
And  if  I  hadn’t,  she  would  have  come  by  herself ;  for  she  had  got 
upon  her  horse  before  any  of  us  were  aware.” 

“  I  couldn’t  stay  at  home,  father,”  said  Mary,  reviving  and 
speaking  in  a  firm  voice.  “  I  should  have  died  with  a  broken 
heart.  I  couldn’t  let  you  come  to  put  him  in  the  earth  without 
following  after  you.  W^here  is  he  ?  I  heai’d  them  nailing  the 
coffin ;  it  must  be  broken  open  for  me  to  see  him !” 

These  words,  uttered  with  a  bitter  vehemence,  were  followed  by 
a  quick  movement  towards  the  coffin,  which  was  yet  unclosed ; 
and  the  maiden,  with  more  composure  than  her  previous  gestoes 
seemed  to  render  it  possible  for  her  to  acquire,  paused  before  the 
body  with  a  look  of  intense  sorrow,  as  the  tears  fell  fast  from  her 
eyes. 

“  It  is  true — it  is  too  true — he  is  dead  !  Oh,  John,  John  !”  she 
exclaimed,  as  she  stooped  down  and  kissed  the  cold  lips,  “  I  did 
not  dream  of  this  when  we  parted  last  night  near  the  willows. 
You  did  not  look  as  you  do  now,  when  I  found  you  asleep  under 
the  rock,  and  when  you  promised  me,  John,  that  you  would  be 
careful  and  keep  yourself  from  danger,  if  it  was  only  to  please  me. 
We  were  doing  onr  best  for  you  then.  Major  Butler — and  here  is 
what  it  has  come  to.  No  longer  than  last  night  he  made  me 
the  promise.  Oh  me,  oh  me !  how  wretched — how  miserable  I 
am !” 

“  Daughter,  dear,”  said  Allen  Musgrove,  “  rise  up  and  behave 
like  a  brave  girl  as,  you  know,  I  have  often  told  you  you  were^ 
We  are  born  to  afflictions,  and  young  as  you  are,  you  cannot  hope 
to  be  free  from  the  common  lot.  You  do  yourself  harm  by  this 
ungoverned  grief.  There’s  a  good  and  a  kind  girl — sit  yourself 
down  and  calm  your  feelings.” 

Musgrove  took  his  daughter  by  the  hand,  and  gently  conducted 
her  to  a  seat,  where  he  continued  to  address  her  in  soothing  lan¬ 
guage,  secretly  afraid  that  the  agony  of  her  feelings  might  work 
some  serious  misfertune  upon  her  senses. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


483 


“You  are  not  angry  with  me,  father,  for  following  you  to¬ 
night  ?”  said  Mary,  for  a  moment  moderating  the  wildness  of  her 
sorrow. 

“No,  child,  no.  I  cannot  he  angry  with  you;  but  I  fear  this 
long  night-ride  may  do  you  harm.” 

“  I  can  but  die,  father ;  and  I  would  not  step  aside  from  that.” 

“  Recollect  yourself,  Mary  ;  your  Bible  does  not  teach  you  to 
wish  for  death.  It  is  sinful  to  rebel  under  the  chastisements  of 
God.  Daughter,  I  have  taught  you  in  your  day  of  prosperity,  the 
lessons  that  were  to  be  practised  in  your  time  of  suffering  and  trial. 
Do  not  now  turn  me  and  my  precepts  to  shame.” 

“  Oh,  father,  forgive  me.  It  is  so  hard  to  lose  the  best,  the  dear¬ 
est  !”  Here  Mary  again  gave  way  to  emotions  which  could  only 
relieve  themselves  in  profuse  tears. 

In  the  meantime  the  body  was  removed  to  the  outside  of  the 
cabin,  and  the  cofBn  was  speedily  shut  up  and  deposited  upon  a  light 
wagon-frame,  to  which  two  lean  horses  were  already  harnessed,  and 
which  waited  to  convey  its  burden  to  the  grave-yard. 

“  All  is  ready,”  said  Winter,  stepping  quietly  into  the  house, 
and  speaking  in  a  low  tone  to  Musgrove.  “  We  are  waiting  only 
for  you.” 

“  Father,”  said  Mary,  who,  on  hearing  this  communication,  had 
sprung  to  her  feet,  “  I  must  go  with  you.” 

“My  child!” 

“  I  came  all  this  way  through  the  dark  woods  on  purpose, 
father — and  it  is  my  right  to  go  with  him  to  his  grave.  Pray, 
dear  father,  do  not  forbid  me.  We  belonged  to  each  other,  and 
he  would  be  glad  to  think  I  was  the  last  that  left  him — the  very 
last.” 

“  The  poor  child  takes  on  so,”  said  the  wife  of  Drummond,  now 
for  the  first  time  interposing  in  the  scene  ;  “  and  it  seems  natural, 
Mr.  Musgrove,  that  you  shouldn’t  hinder  her.  I  will  go  along,  and 
maybe  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  her,  to  have  some  woman-kind  be¬ 
side  her.  I  will  take  her  hand.” 

“  You  shall  go,  Mary,”  said  her  father ;  “  but  on  the  condition 
that  you  govern  your  feelings,  and  behave  with  the  moderation  of 
a  Christian  woman.  Take  courage,  my  child,  and  show  your 
nurture.” 


484 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  I  will,  father — I  will ;  the  worst  is  past,  and  I  can  walk  quietly 
to  John’s  grave,”  replied  Mary,  as  the  tears  again  flowed  fast,  and 
her  voice  was  stifled  with  her  sobs. 

“  It  is  a  heavy  trouble  for  such  a  young  creature  to  bear,”  said 
Mistress  Drummond,  as  she  stood  beside  the  maiden,  waiting  for 
this  burst  of  grief  to  subside ;  “  but  this  world  is  full  of  such 
sorrows.” 

Musgrove  now  quitted  the  apartment.  He  was  followed  by  his 
daughter  and  the  rest  of  the  inmates,  all  of  whom  repaired  to  the 
front  of  the  cabin,  where  they  awaited  the  removal  of  the  body. 

A  bundle  of  pine  faggots  had  been  provided,  and  each  one  of 
the  party  was  supplied  from  them  with  a  lighted  torch.  Some 
little  delay  occurred  whilst  Harry  Winter  was  concluding  his 
arrangements  for  the  funeral. 

“  Take  your  weapons  along,  boys,”  said  the  trooper  to  his  com¬ 
rades,  in  a  whisper.  “  John  Ramsay  shall  have  the  honors  of  war 
— and  mark,  you  are  to  bring  up  the  rear — let  the  women  walk 
next  the  wagon.  Gabriel  Drummond,  bring  your  rifle  along — we 
shall  give  a  volley  over  the  grave.” 

The  woodman  stepped  into  the  cabin  and  returned  with  his  fire¬ 
lock.  All  things  being  ready,  the  wagon,  under  the  guidance  of  a 
negro  who  walked  at  the  horses’  heads,  now  moved  forward.  The 
whole  party  formed  a  procession  in  couples — the  woodman’s  wife 
and  Mary  being  first  in  the  train,  the  children  succeedijig  them,  and 
the  rest  following  in  regular  order. 

It  was  an  hour  after  midnight.  The  road,  scarcely  discernible, 
wound  through  a  thick  forest,  and  the  procession  moved  with  a 
slow  and  heavy  step  towards  its  destination.  The  torches  lit  up 
the  darkness  of  the  wood  with  a  strong  flame,  that  penetrated  the 
mass  of  sombre  foliage  to  the  extent  of  some  fifty  paces  around, 
and  glared  with  a  wild  and  romantic  effect  upon  the  rude  coffin, 
the  homely  vehicle  on  which  it  was  borne,  and  upon  the  sorrow¬ 
ing  faces  of  the  train  that  followed  it.  The  seclusion  of  the  region, 
the  unwonted  hour,  and  the  strange  mixture  of  domestic  and  mili¬ 
tary  mourning,  half  rustic  and  half  warlike,  that  entered  into  the 
composition  of  the  group  ;  and,  above  all,  the  manifestations  of 
sincere  and  intense  grief  that  were  seen  in  every  member  of  the 
train,  communicated  to  tlie  incident  a  singularly  imaginative  and 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


485 


unusual  character.  No  words  were  spoken,  except  the  few  orders 
of  the  march  announced  by  Harry  Winter  in  a  whisper ;  and  the  ear 
recognised,  with  a  painful  precision,  the  unceasing  sobs  of  Mary 
Musgrove,  and  the  deep  groan  that  seemed,  unawares,  to  escape 
now  and  then  from  some  of  the  males  of  the  party.  The  dull 
tramp  of  feet,  and  the  rusty  creak  of  the  wagon-wheels,  or  the 
crackling  of  brushwood  beneath  them,  and  the  monotonous  clank 
of  the  chains  employed  in  the  gearing  of  the  horses,  all  broke  upon 
the  stillness  of  the  night  with  a  more  abrupt  and  observed  distinct¬ 
ness,  from  the  peculiar  tone  of  feeling  which  pervaded  those  who 
were  engaged  in  the  sad  offices  of  the  scene. 

In  the  space  of  half  an  hour,  the  train  had  emerged  from  the 
wood  upon  a  small  tract  of  open  ground,  that  seemed  to  have  been 
formerly  cleared  from  the  forest  for  the  purpose  of  cultivation. 
Whatever  tillage  might  have  once  existed  there  was  now  aban¬ 
doned,  and  the  space  was  overgrown  with  brambles,  through  which 
the  blind  road  still  struggled  by  a  track  that  even  in  daylight  it 
would  have  been  difficult  to  pursue.  Towards  the  centre  of  this 
opening  grew  a  cluster  of  low  cherry  and  peach  trees,  around 
whose  roots  a  plentiful  stock  of  wild  scions  had  shot  up  in  the 
absence  of  culture.  Close  in  the  shade  of  this  cluster,  a  ragged 
and  half-decayed  paling  formed  a  square  inclosure  of  some  ten  or 
twelve  paces  broad,  and  a  few  rude  posts  set  up  within,  indicated  I 
the  spot  to  be  the  rustic  grave-yard.  Here  two  negroes  were  seen 
resting  over  a  newly-dug  grave. 

The  wagon  halted  within  some  short  distance  of  the  paling,  and 
the  coffin  was  now  committed  to  the  shoulders  of  the  troopers. 
Following  these,  the  whole  train  of  mourners  entered  the  burial- 
place. 

My  reader  will  readily  imagine  with  what  fresh  fervor  the  grief 
of  poor  Mary  broke  forth,  whilst  standing  on  the  verge  of  the  pit 
in  which  were  to  be  entombed  the  remains  of  one  so  dear  to  her. 
The  solemn  interval  or  pause  which  intervened  between  the  arrival 
of  the  coi’pse  at  this  spot,  and  its  being  lowered  into  the  ground, 
was  one  that  was  not  signalized  only  by  the  loud  sorrow  of  her 
who  here  bore  the  part  of  chief  mourner ;  but  all,  even  to  the 
negroes  who  stood  musing  over  their  spades,  gave  vent  to  feelings 


486 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


which,  at  such  a  moment,  it  neither  belongs  to  humanity,  nor  be¬ 
comes  it,  to  resist. 

The  funeral  service  was  performed  by  Allen  Musgrove.  The 
character  of  the  miller,  both  physical  and  moral,  impressed  his 
present  employment  with  singular  efficacy.  Though  his  frame 
bore  the  traces  of  age,  it  was  still  robust  and  muscular ;  and  his 
bearing,  erect  and  steadfast,  denoted  firmness  of  mind.  His  head, 
partially  bald,  was  now  uncovered ;  and  his  loose,  whitened  locks 
played  in  the  breeze.  The  torches  were  raised  above  the  group ; 
and  as  they  flared  in  the  wind  and  flung  their  heavy  volumes  of 
smoke  into  the  air,  they  threw  also  a  blaze  of  light  upon  the 
venerable  figure  of  the  miller,  as  he  poured  forth  an  impassioned 
supplication  to  the  Deity ;  which,  according  to  the  habit  of  think¬ 
ing  of  that  period,  and  conformably  also  to  the  tenets  of  the 
religious  sect  to  which  the  speaker  belonged,  might  be  said  to  have 
expressed,  in  an  equal  degi-ee,  resignation  to  the  will  of  Heaven 
and  defiance  of  the  power  of  man.  Though  the  office  at  the  grave 
was  thus  prolonged,  it  did  not  seem  to  be  unexpected  or  wearisome 
to  the  auditory,  who  remained  with  unabated  interest  until  they 
had  chanted  a  hymn,  which  was  given  out  by  the  miller,  and  sung 
in  successive  couplets.  The  religious  observances  of  the  place 
seemed  to  have  taken  a  profitable  hold  upon  the  hearts  of  the 
mourners  ;  and  before  the  hymn  was  concluded,  even  the  voice  of 
Mary  Musgrove  rose  with  a  clear  cadence  upon  the  air,  and  showed 
that  the  inspirations  of  piety  had  already  supplanted  some  of  the 
more  violent  paroxysms  of  grief. 

This  exercise  of  devotion  being  finished,  the  greater  part  of  the 
company  began  their  retreat  to  the  woodman’s  cabin.  Winter 
and  his  comrades  remained  to  perfoim  the  useless  and  idle 
ceremony  of  discharging  their  pistols  over  the  grave,  and  when 
this  was  accomplished  they  hurried  forward  to  overtake  the  party 
in  advance. 

They  had  scarcely  rejoined  their  companions,  before  the  horses 
of  the  wagon  were  seized  by  an  unknown  hand ;  and  the  glare  of 
the  torches  presented  to  the  view  of  the  company  some  fifteen  or 
twenty  files  of  British  troopers. 

“  Stand,  I  charge  you  all,  in  the  name  of  the  king !”  called  out 
an  authoritative  voice  from  the  contiguous  thicket ;  and  before 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


487 


another  word  could  be  uttered,  the  funeral  train  found  themselves 
surrounded  by  enemies. 

“  Hands  oil’!”  exclaimed  Butler,  as  a  soldier  had  seized  him  by 
the  coat.  A  pistol  shot  was  heard,  and  Butler  was  seen  plunging 
into  the  w'ood,  followed  by  Winter  and  one  or  two  others. 

The  fugitives  were  pursued  by  numbers  of  the  hostile  party,  and 
in  a  few  moments  were  dragged  back  to  the  lights. 

“Who  are  you,  sir  ?”  demanded  an  oflacer,  who  now  rode  up  to  But¬ 
ler,  “  that  you  dare  to  disobey  a  command  in  the  name  of  the  king  ? 
Friend  or  foe,  you  must  submit  to  be  questioned.” 

“  We  have  been  engaged,”  said  Allen  Musgrove,  “  in  the  peace¬ 
ful  and  Christian  duty  of  burying  the  dead.  What  right  have  you 
to  interrupt  us  ?” 

“You  take  a  strange  hour  for  such  a  work,”  replied  the  officer, 
“  and,  by  the  volley  fired  over  the  grave,  I  doubt  whether  your  ser¬ 
vice  be  so  peaceful  as  you  pretend,  old  man.  What  is  he  that  you 
have  laid  beneath  the  turf  to-night  ?” 

“  A  soldier,”  replied  Butler,  “  worthy  of  all  the  rites  that  belong 
to  the  sepulture  of  a  brave  man.” 

“  And  you  are  a  comrade,  I  suppose  ?” 

“  I  do  not  deny  it.” 

“  What  colors  do  you  serve  ?” 

“  Who  is  he  that  asks  ?” 

“  Captain  M'Alpine  of  the  new  levies,”  replied  the  officer.  “  Now, 
sir,  your  name  and  character  ?  you  must  be  convinced  of  my  right 
to  ^cnow  it.” 

“  I  have  no  motive  for  concealment,”  said  Butler,  “  since  I  am 
already  in  your  power.  Myself  and  four  comrades  are  strictly  your 
prisoners  ;  the  rest  of  this  party  are  inhabitants  of  the  neighboring 
country,  having  no  connexion  with  the  war,  but  led  hither  by 
a  simple  wish  to  perform  an  office  of  humanity  to  a  deceased 
friend.  In  surrendering  myself  and  those  under  my  command,  I 
bespeak  for  the  others  an  immunity  from  all  vexatious  detention. 
I  am  an  officer  of  the  Continental  service  :  Butler  is  my  name,  my 
rank,  a  major  of  infantry.” 

After  a  few  words  more  of  explanation,  the  party  were  directed 
by  the  British  officer  to  continue  their  march  to  Drummond’s 


i88 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


cabin,  -wbither,  in  a  brief  space,  they  arrived  under  the  escort  of 
their  captors. 

A  wakeful  night  was  passed  under  the  woodman’s  roof;  and 
when  morning  came  the  circumstances  of  the  recapture  of  Butler 
were  more  fully  disclosed.  The  detachment  under  Captain  M‘ Alpine 
were  on  their  way  to  join  Ferguson,  who  was  now  posted  in  the 
upper  district ;  and  being  attracted  by  the  sound  of  voices  engaged 
in  chanting  the  psalm  at  the  funeral  of  John  Kamsay,  and  still  more 
by  the  discharge  of  the  volley  over  the  grave,  they  had  directed 
their  march  to  the  spot,  which  they  had  no  difficulty  in  reaching  by 
the  help  of  the  torches  borne  by  the  mourners.  * 

The  detachment  consisted  of  a  company  of  hoise  numbering 
some  fifty  men,  who  had  no  scruple  in  seizing  upon  Butler  and  his 
companions  as  prisoners  of  war.  It  was  some  relief  to  Butler 
when  he  ascertained  that  his  present  captors  were  ignorant  of  his 
previous  history,  and  were  unconnected  with  those  who  had  formerly 
held  him  in  custody.  He  was  also  gratified  with  the  assurance 
that  no  design  was  entertained  to  molest  any  others  of  the  party, 
except  those  whom  Butler  himself  indicated  as  belligerents. 

Captain  M‘ Alpine  halted  with  his  men  at  the  woodman’s  cabin, 
until  after  sunrise.  During  this  interval,  Butler  was  enabled  to 
prepare  himself  for  the  journey  he  was  about  to  commence,  and  to 
take  an  affectionate  leave  of  Musgrove  and  his  daughter,  David 
Ramsay,  and  the  woodman’s  family. 

Allen  Musgi’ove  and  Mary,  and  their  friend  Ramsay,  deemed  it 
prudent  to  retreat  with  the  first  permission  given  them  by  the 
British  officer ;  and,  not  long  afterwards,  Butler  and  his  comrades 
found  themselves  in  the  escort  of  the  Tory  cavalry,  bound  for  Fer¬ 
guson’s  camp. 

Thus,  once  more,  was  Butler  doomed  to  feel  the  vexations  of 
captivity. 


CHAPTER  XLVn. 


{ 

A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  AT  MRS.  MARKHAM’s.  THE  SERGEANT  sStS 
FORTH  ON  AN  ADVENTURE. 

We  return  to  Mildred  Lindsay,  who,  comfortably  sheltered  under 
the  roof  of  Mrs.  Markham,  had  found  herself,  after  the  repose  of  forty- 
eight  hours,  almost  entirely  reinstated  in  her  former  strength  ;  her 
thoughts  were  now  consequently  directed  to  the  resumption  of  her 
journey.  The  gentle  and  assiduous  attentions  of  the  family  whose 
hospitality  she  enjoyed,  were,  however,  not  confined  to  the  mere 
restoration  of  her  health.  The  peculiarity  of  her  condition,  thus 
thrown  as  she  was  amongst  strangers,  in  the  prosecution  of  an 
enterprise,  which,  though  its  purpose  ivas  not  disclosed  to  her 
entertainer,  was  one  manifestly  of  great  peril,  and  such  only  as 
could  have  been  induced  by  some  urgent  and  imperious  necessity, 
awakened  in  Mrs.  Markham  a  lively  interest  towards  Mildred’s 
future  progress.  This  interest  was  increased  by  the  deportment  of 
our  heroine  herself,  whose  mild  and  graceful  courtesy,  feminine 
delicacy,  and  gentleness  of  nurture,  were  so  signally  contrasted  with 
the  romantic  hardihood  of  her  present  expedition.  General 
Marion’s  letter,  also,  in  the  estimation  of  the  hostess,  put  her  under 
a  special  obligation  to  look  after  the  welfare  of  her  guest.  Ac¬ 
cordingly,  now  when  the  third  morning  of  our  travellers’  sojourn 
had  arrived,  and  Mildred  thought  of  taking  leave  of  the  iliendly 
family,  the  first  announcement  of  this  purpose  was  met  by  an  almost 
po.sitive  prohibition. 

“  You  are  young,  my  dear,”  said  the  matron,  “  in  your  expe¬ 
rience  of  the  horrors  of  this  civil  war,  and  make  a  sad  mistake 
if  you  think  that  your  sex,  or  any  sufficient  reason  you  may 
have  to  justify  you  in  going  on,  will  protect  you  against  insult,  in 
case  you  should  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  meet  parties  of  the 
enemy,” 


21* 


489 


490 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  My  object,  madam,”  replied  Mildred,  “  is  to  go  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  enemy’s  ranks.  My  business  is  to  see  Lord  Cornwallis 
himself.  I  shall,  therefore,  proceed  directly  to  his  head-quarters. 
•That  being  my  purpose,  I  shall  not  regret  the  opportunity  to  throw 
myself  upon  the  protection  of  the  first  band  of  loyal  troops  I  may 
meet.” 

“  Into  Lord  Cornwallis’s  presence !”  said  Mrs.  Markham,  with 
an  expression  of  wonder.  “  You  have  some  very  near  friend  who 
has  suffered  in  the  late  battle — a  prisoner,  perhaps?”  As  this 
question  escaped  the  lips  of  the  lady,  who  had  hitherto  purposely 
forborne  to  inquire  into  the  private  history  of  Mildred’s  journey, 
she  shook  her  head  distrustfully,  and,  after  some  deliberation, 
added,  “  You  wiU  pardon  me,  my  child,  for  what  may  seem  to  be 
an  idle  curiosity — I  seek  to  know  nothing  that  you  may  desire  to 
keep  secret — ^but  your  journey  is  so  full  of  hazard  to  one  so  young 
and  helpless  as  yourself,  that  I  fear  you  have  not  wisely  considered 
the  evil  chances  to  which  you  may  be  exposed.” 

“  I  have  spent  no  thought  upon  the  hazard,  madam,”  replied  Mil¬ 
dred.  “  There  is  no  degree  of  danger  that  should  outweigh  my 
resolution.  You  guess  truly — I  have  a  friend  who  is  a  prisoner, 
and  in  sad  jeopardy — and  more  than  that,  dear  madam,  I  have 
persuaded  myself  that  I  have  power  to  save  him.”  A  tear  started 
in  her  eye  as  she  added,  “  That  is  all  I  have  thought  of.” 

“  Then  may  a  kind  and  merciful  Heaven  shield  you !  They  little 
know  the  heart-rending  trials  of  war,  who  have  not  felt  them  as  I 
have.  These  rude  soldiers.  Miss  Lindsay — I  shudder  at  the 
thought  of  your  trusting  your  safety  to  them.” 

“  My  name,  madam,”  replied  Mildred,  “  I  am  ashamed  to  tell 
you,  has  all  its  associations  on  their  side — I  must  trust  to  its  power 
to  bear  me  through.” 

“  Hot  all,  sister,”  inteirupted  Henry.  “  From  the  beginning  up 
to  this  day,  I  can  answer  for  myself,  I  have  never  had  a  thought 
that  didn’t  take  sides  against  the  red-coats.” 

A  faint  smile  played  upon  Mrs.  Markham’s  features,  as  she 
turned  to  Henry  and  said,  “  You  are  a  young  rebel,  and  a  warm 
one,  I  perceive.  Such  troubles  as  ours  require  grave  advisers.” 

“  My  brother  and  myself  must  not  be  misapprehended,”  con¬ 
tinued  Mildred  ;  “  I  alluded  only  to  my  father’s  influence.  I  have 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


491 


heard  that  he  enjoys  some  consideration  in  the  esteem  of  Lord 
Cornwallis,  and  it  is  upon  the  strength  of  that  I  have  ventured. 
Besides,  I  am  well  attended  by  a  careful  and  wise  soldier,  who 
rides  as  my  companion  ancL  guide — one  who  would  not  quietly  see 
me  harmed.” 

“  Let  him  be  brought  into  our  consultation,”  said  Mrs.  Markham, 
“  I  would  not  act  without  his  advice.  With  your  leave,  I  will  send 
for  him.” 

Henry  and  Alfred  Markham,  immediately  upon  this  hint,  went 
in  pursuit  of  Horse  Shoe. 

When  that  important  and  trusty  personage  arrived  in  the  parlor, 
a  regular  conference  was  opened,  which,  after  a  few  discourses  on 
the  general  aspect  of  afiairs — wherein  the  sergeant  showed  an 
abundance  of  soldierly  sagacity  and  knowledge,  and  a  still  greater 
share  of  warm  and  faithful  concern  for  the  welfare  of  the  sister  and 
brother  whom  he  had  in  ward — resulted  in  the  conclusion  that 
measures  should  be  taken  to  ascertain  the  state  of  the  country 
around,  in  reference  to  the  impression  made  by  the  late  movements 
of  Marion  and  his  adversary ;  and,  especially,  what  character  of 
troops  occupied  the  region  over  which  the  sergeant  would  be  re¬ 
quired  to  conduct  his  charge.  This  duty  the  sergeant  very  appro¬ 
priately  considered  as  belonging  to  himself,  and  he  therefore  deter¬ 
mined  forthwith  to  set  out  on  a  reconnoitring  expedition.  As  we 
propose  to  bear  him  company,  we  will,  for  the  present,  leave  the 
family  in  the  parlor  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  kind  communion  that 
had  already  nursed  up  a  mutual  affection  between  the  hostess  and 
her  guests. 

The  sergeant  took  his  departure  alone,  notwithstanding  the  ur¬ 
gent  importunities  of  Henry  and  his  new  companion,  Alfred  Mark¬ 
ham,  for  permission  to  accompany  him — a  request  that  was  utterly 
denied  by  the  sturdy  and  cautious  soldier. 

“You  are  apt  to  talk  too  much.  Mister  Lindsay,”  he  said,  in 
answer  to  the  petition  of  the  young  men,  “  for  such  a  piece  of  busi¬ 
ness  as  I  have  in  hand  ;  for  although,  consarning  your  good  sense, 
and  valor  both,  considering  your  years,  I  would  not  be  thought  to 
speak  rashly  of  them — but,  on  the  contrary,  to  give  you  full  praise 
and  recommendation — yet  you  know  you  want  experience  and  use 
to  these  double-dealings  and  dodgings  that  the  war  puts  us  to ; 


492 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


wliereupon,  you  mought  fall  to  talking  wlien  it  was  best  to  be  silent, 
and,  in  case  of  our  meeting  a  body,  to  be  letting  out  somewhat  too 
much,  which  is  a  thing  that  discommodes  in  war  more  than  you 
would  believe.  And  besides  this.  Master  Henry,  there  might  be, 
mayhap,  a  scrimmage,  a  chase,  and  what  not — in  which  considera¬ 
tion  you  would  be  only  in  my  way,  seeing  that  I  should  be  obliged 
to  be  thinking  of  you  when  all  my  wits  would  be  wanting  for  my¬ 
self.  No,  no  ;  upon  no  account  is  it  reasonable  that  you  should  be 
along.  It  is  your  business  to  sarve  as  a  body-guard  to  our  young 
lady,  who,  I  say,  may  God  bless  and  take  care  of  in  this  world  and 
the  next !  And  so,  Mister  Henry,  you  have  my  orders  to  stick  to 
your  post.’’ 

“Well,  sergeant,”  replied  Henry,  “  I  must  obey  orders,  and,  if 
you  command  me  to  stay  behind,  why  I  cannot  choose  about  it. 
But,  sergeant,  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice.  Ride  cautiously 
— keep  your  eyes  to  the  right  and  left,  as  well  as  straight  before 
you — and  don’t  let  them  catch  you  napping.” 

“You  studied  that  speech,  Mr.  Henry !”  said  Horse  Shoe,  laughing. 
“  To  hear  you,  one  mought  almost  think  you  had  shaved  a  beard 
from  your  chin  before  this.  Look  out,  or  your  hair  will  turn  grey 
from  too  hard  thinking !  and  now,  my  long-headed  fellow-soldier, 
good  bye  t’ye  !” 

“  You  are  not  going  without  your  rifle,  Mr.  Horse  Shoe  ?”  said 
Henry,  calling  out  to  the  sergeant,  who  had  already  trotted  ofl 
some  twenty  paces. 

“  That’s  another  consarn  for  you  to  ruminate  over,”  replied  Horse 
Shoe,  in  the  same  jocular  mood.  “  Mine  is  a  business  of  legs,  not 
arms,  to-day.” 

The  sergeant  was  immediately  after  this  upon  the  highway, 
moving  forward  with  nothing,  seemingly,  to  employ  him  but  cheer¬ 
ful  thoughts. 

After  riding  for  an  hour  upon  the  road  that  led  towards  Cam¬ 
den,  he  was  enabled  to  collect  from  the  country  people  a  rumor  that 
some  detachments  of  horse  were,  at  this  time,  traversing  the 
countiy  towards  Pedee,  but  whether  friends  or  enemies  was  not 
known  to  his  informants.  In  following  up  this  trail  of  common 
report,  his  vigilance  quickened  by  the  uncertainty  of  the  tidings,  he 
arrived  about  mid-day  at  a  brook  which,  running  between  low  but 


UOBSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


493 


sharp  hills,  was  crossed  by  the  road  at  a  point  where  a  bold  mass  of 
rock,  some  twenty  feet  in  height,  jutted  down  with  a  perpendicu¬ 
lar  abruptness  into  the  water.  Here,  as  he  stopped  to  survey  the 
narrow  and  winding  course  of  the  stream,  his  eye  was  attracted 
by  the  projecting  crag  that  thrust  its  bulk  almost  into  the  middle 
of  the  channel ;  and,  for  a  moment,  he  indulged  the  speculation  of 
a  soldier,  as  he  pondered  upon  the  military  advantages  of  such  a 
post,  either  as  a  point  from  which  to  reconnoitre  an  enemy,  or  as 
a  vantage-ground  on  which  to  dispute  his  passage  of  the  ford. 
It  not  long  afterwards  fell  to  his  lot  to  turn  this  observation  to 
some  account. 

A  mile  beyond  this  spot,  and  where  the  road,  as  it  yet  crept 
through  the  bosom  of  the  hills,  was  so  obscured  by  forest  as  to 
afford  not  more  than  fifty  paces  of  uninterrupted  view,  his  quick 
ear  was  struck  with  sounds  resembling  the  tramp  of  horses.  Upon 
this  conviction,  it  was  but  the  action  of  an  instant  for  him  to  turn 
aside  into  the  woods  and  to  take  a  station  which  might  enable 
him  to  investigate  the  cause  of  his  surmise,  without  exposing 
himself  to  the  risk  of  detection.  The  noise  grew  louder,  and  what 
was  vague  conjecture  soon  became  the  certain  report  of  his  senses. 
At  the  nearest  turn  in  the  road,  whilst  protected  by  a  screen  of 
thicket,  he  could  descry  the  leading  platoons  of  a  column  of  horse 
advancing  at  a  slow  gait ;  and  upon  examining  his  own  position 
he  became  aware  that,  although  the  thicket  might  guard  him  from 
present  observation,  it  would  cease  to  do  so  as  soon  as  the  squad¬ 
ron  should  approach  nearer  to  his  gi-ound.  His  thoughts  recurred 
to  the  rock  at  the  ford,  and,  with  a  view  to  avail  himself  of  it,  he 
forthwith  commenced  his  retreat  through  the  underwood  that 
guarded  the  road  side,  as  fast  as  Captain  Peter  could  get  over  the 
ground.  It  was  not  long  before  he  was  removed  beyond  all  risk  of 
being  seen  by  the  advancing  party,  and  he  thus  found  himself 
at  liberty  to  take  the  road  again  and  retire  without  apprehen¬ 
sion. 

In  Horse  Shoe’s  reckoning,  it  was  a  matter  of  great  importance 
that  he  should  obtain  the  most  accurate  information  regarding  the 
troop  that  he  had  just  encountered ;  and  his  present  purpose  was, 
accordingly,  to  post  himself  in  a  secure  position  upon  the  rock, 


494 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


and  there  maintain  a  close  watch  upon  the  party  as  they  rode 
beneath  it.  The  brook  was  gained,  the  ford  passed,  and  the 
sergeant,  after  riding  a  short  circuit  towards  the  rear  of  the  little 
promontory,  dismounted  from  his  horse,  which  he  secured  in  the 
depths  of  the  wood,  and  then  clambered  to  the  top  of  the  precipice, 
where  he  had  barely  time  to  conceal  himself  amongst  the  crags 
and  the  thick  shrubbery  that  shot  up  above  them,  before  the 
headmost  files  of  the  cavalry  appeared  descending  the  opposite 
hill. 

As  the  column  came  gradually  into  his  view  upon  the  road 
which  wound  down  into  the  valley,  it  disclosed  a  troop  of  some 
twenty  men,  whose  green  uniform  sufficiently  indicated  the 
presence  of  a  part  of  Tarleton’s  command.  He  heard  them  call  a 
halt  upon  the  bank,  and  after  a  few  moments’  rest,  he  saw  them 
ride  into  the  stream,  and  pass  in  files  around  the  base  of  the 
rock. 

The  passage  of  the  brook  occupied  some  time  ;  for  the  thirsty 
horses  were  successively  given  a  slack  rein  as  they  entered  the  ford, 
.and  were  allowed  to  drink.  This  delay  separated  the  platoons, 
and  those  who  first  passed  over  had  advanced  a  considerable 
distance  before  the  stragglers  of  the  rear  had  quitted  the  stream. 
For  some  minutes  that  stir  and  noise  prevailed  which,  in  a  military 
party,  generally  attends  the  attempt  to  restore  order  amongst 
confused  or  broken  ranks.  The  frequent  commands  of  officers 
summoning  the  loiterers  and  chiding  their  delay,  were  given  from 
front  to  rear  in  loud  tones,  and  the  swift  gallop  of  those  who  had 
lingered  in  the  stream,  as  they  obeyed  the  order  and  hastened 
forward  to  their  places,  sent  forth  a  quick  and  spirited  evidence  of 
bustle,  that  broke  sharply  upon  the  silence  of  the  surrounding 
forest.  These  indications  of  activity  unfortunately  pricked  with  a 
sudden  astonishment  the  ear  of  one  who  has  heretofore  figured, 
not  without  renown,  in  this  history — the  lusty  and  faithful  Captain 
Peter  ;  who,  not  sufficiently  alive  to  the  distinction  between  friend 
and  foe,  now  began  to  snuff,  and  paw  the  ground,  and  then  with 
a  long  and  clear  note  of  recognition,  to  express  his  feelings  of 
good  fellowship  towards  the  unseen  strangers.  Another  moment, 
and  the  gay  and  thoughtless  steed  reared,  plunged  broke  his 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


495 


bridle,  and  bounded  through  the  woods,  with  a  frolicsome  speed 
that  brought  him  into  the  midst  of  the  troop,  where  he  wheeled 
up  and  took  his  place,  like  a  disciplined  charger,  on  the  flank  of 
one  of  the  platoons. 

This  incident  caused  the  officer  in  command  of  the  party  to  come 
again  to  a  halt,  and  to  despatch  a  portion  of  his  men  to  seek  the 
owner  of  the  horse.  An  eager  search  commenced,  which  was 
almost  immediately  terminated  by  the  wary  sergeant  presenting 
himself  to  the  view  of  the  troop,  on  a  prominent  and  exposed 
point  of  the  rock,  where  he  seemed  to  be  busily,  and  uncon¬ 
cernedly  engaged  with  his  jack-knife,  in  stripping  the  bark  from 
the  roots  of  a  sassafras  tree  that  grew  out  of  one  of  the  fissures 
of  the  cliff.  Apparently,  he  gave  no  attention  to  the  clamor 
around  him,  nor  seemed  to  show  a  wish  to  conceal  himself  from 
notice. 

“  Who  in  the  devil  are  you — and  what  are  you  about  ?”  ex¬ 
claimed  the  leading  soldier,  as  he  mounted  the  rock  and  came  up 
immediately  behind  Robinson,  who  was  still  fixed  with  one  knee 
upon  the  gi-ound,  plying  his  labor  at  the  root  of  the  tree. 

“  Good  day,  friend,”  said  Robinson,  looking  up  over  his  shoulder, 
“  Good  day  !  From  your  looks  you  belong  to  the  army,  and,  if 
that’s  true,  perhaps  you  mought  be  able  to  tell  me  how  far  it  is 
from  here  to  the  river  ?” 

“  Get  up  on  your  feet,”  said  the  other,  “  and  follow  me  quickly  ! 
I  will  take  you  to  one  who  will  oil  the  joints  of  your  tongue  for 
you,  and  put  you  to  studying  your  catechism.  Quick,  fellow, 
move  your  heavy  carcass,  or,  I  promise  you,  I  will  prick  your  fat 
sides  with  my  sword  point.” 

“Anywhere  you  wish,  sir,  if  you  will  only  give  me  time 
to  gather  up  this  here  bark,”  said  the  sergeant,  who,  here¬ 
upon,  heedless  of  the  objurgation  of  the  trooper,  deliberately 
untied  the  handkerchief  from  his  neck,  and  spreading  it  out  upon 
the  ground,  threw  into  it  the  pieces  of  bark  he  had  been  cut¬ 
ting,  and  then,  taking  it  in  his  hand,  rose  and  walked  after  the 
soldier. 

He  was  conducted  to  the  troop,  who  were  waiting  in  the  road 
the  return  of  the  men  that  had  been  despatched  on  this  piece  of 
service. 


496 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  Quick,  quick,  move  youi’selves  !  we  have  no  time  to  lose,”  cried 
out  the  officer  in  command  of  the  detachment,  as  Horse  Shoe  and 
his  guide  came  in  view :  and  then,  after  an  interval  of  silence, 
during  which  the  sergeant  ivalked  heavily  to  the  spot  where  the 
troop  waited  for  him,  he  added  with  an  impatient  abruptness, 
“  Make  few  words  of  it,  sir.  Your  name,  where  from,  and  where 
are  you  going  ?” 

“  My  name,  captain — if  your  honor  is  a  captain,  and  if  I  miscall 
you,  I  ax  your  honor’s  pardon  ;  my  name  is — is — Stephen  Foster, 
Steve  most  commonly.” 

“  Well,  whence  do  you  come  ?” 

“  From  Virginny.” 

“  Fool !  why  do  you  stop  ?” 

“You  axed,  I  think,  where  I  was  going?  I  was  going  to  get 
on  my  horse  that’s  broke  his  bridle,  which  I  see  you  have  cotched 
for  me  :  and  then  back  to  my  young  mistress,  sir,  that  was  taken 
sick  over  here  at  a  gentlewoman’s  house  on  Pedee.  She  thought 
a  little  sassafras  tea  might  help  her  along,  and  I  was  sent  out  to 
try  and  get  a  few  scrapings  of  the  bark  to  take  to  her.  I  suppose 
I  must  have  rode  out  of  my  way  a  matter  of  some  eight  or  ten 
miles  to  find  it,  though  I  told  her  that  I  thought  a  little  balm  out 
of  the  garden  would  have  done  just  as  well.  But  women  are 
women,  sir,  and  a  sick  woman  in  particular.” 

“  This  fellow  is  more  knave  than  fool,  I  take  it,  cornet,”  said 
the  officer  to  a  companion  near  him. 

“  His  horse  seems  to  have  been  trained  to  other  duties  than 
gathering  herbs  for  ladies  of  delicate  stomachs,”  replied  the 
other. 

“  My  horse,”  interrupted  the  sergeant,  “  would  have  broken 
clean  oflF  if  it  hadn’t  a  been  for  your  honor  :  they  say  he  belonged 
to  a  muster  in  Verginny,  and  I  was  warned  that  he  was  apt  to 
get  rampagious  when  there  was  anything  like  a  set  of  sodgers 
nigh  him,  and  that  is  about  the  reason,  I  expect,  why  he  took  it 
into  his  head  to  fall  into  your  company.” 

“  Get  on  your  beast,”  said  the  officer  impatiently,  “  you  must  go 
with  us.  If  upon  further  acquaintance  I  form  a  better  opinion  of 
you,  you  may  go  about  your  business.” 

“  I  am  somewhat  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  the  lady.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


497 


“  Silence  !  Mount  your  horse,  fall  to  the  rear.  Gilbert,  attend 
to  this  fellow,  he  musn’t  leave  us,”  said  the  officer,  as  he  delivered 
Horse  Shoe  into  the  charge  of  one  of  the  leaders  of  a  platoon,  and 
then  put  spurs  to  his  steed  and  moved  to  the  head  of  the 
column. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  when  this  incident  occurred  ;  and  Robin¬ 
son  found  himself,  during  the  remainder  of  the  day,  compelled  to 
follow  the  troop  through  a  series  of  by-ways  across  the  country,  in  a 
direction  of  which  he  was  wholly  ignorant, — being  also  in  the  same 
degree  unacquainted  with  the  object  of  the  march.  AVhen  the  day 
closed  they  arrived  at  a  farm-house,  where  it  seemed  to  be  their 
purpose  to  pass  the  night ;  and  here  the  sergeant,  towards  whom  no 
unnecessary  rigor  had  been  exercised,  was  freely  allowed  to  partici¬ 
pate  in  the  cheer  pi’ovided  for  the  party.  This  rest  was  of  short 
duration ;  for,  before  the  coming  of  the  allotted  bed-hour,  a 
courier  arrived,  bringing  a  despatch  to  the  leader  of  the  detach¬ 
ment,  which  produced  an  instant  order  to  saddle  and  resume  the 
march. 

Once  more  upon  the  road,  the  sergeant  became  aware,  as  well  as 
he  was  able  to  determine  in  the  dark,  that  the  party  during  the 
night  were  retracing  their  steps,  and  returning  upon  the  same  route 
which  they  had  before  travelled. 

A  half  hour  before  the  dawn  found  the  troop  ascending  a  long 
hill,  the  summit  of  which,  as  Robinson  perceived  from  the  rustling 
of  the  blades  in  the  morning  wind,  was  covered  by  a  field  of  stand¬ 
ing  corn  ;  and  he  was  enabled  to  descry,  moving  athwart  the  star¬ 
lit  sky,  the  figures  of  men  on  horseback  approaching  the  column. 
The  customary  challenge  was  given  ;  a  momentary  halt  ensued, 
and  he  could  hear  the  patrole — for  such  they  described  themselves, 
— informing  the  officer  of  the  detachment  that  Colonel  Tarleton 
was  close  at  hand  expecting  their  arrival.  This  intelligence  induced 
an  increase  of  speed  which,  after  a  short  interval,  brought  the  night- 
worn  squadron  into  the  presence  of  nearly  a  whole  i-egiment  of 
cavalry. 

The  troops,  thus  encountered,  were  stationed  upon  the  high-road 
where  it  crossed  an  open  and  uncultivated  plain,  the  nearer 
extremity  of  which  was  bordered  by  the  corn-field  of  which  I  have 
spoken.  It  was  apparent  that  the  regiment  had  passed  the  night 


498 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


at  this  place,  as  a  number  of  liorses  were  yet  attached  to  the  fence 
that  guarded  the  field,  and  wei«  feeding  on  the  blades  of  corn  that 
had  been  gathered  and  thrown  before  tliem.  The  gi-eater  part, 
however,  were  now  drawn  up  in  column  of  march,  as  if  but  recently 
aiTayed  to  prepare  for  the  toil  of  the  coming  day. 

Eobinson  was  conducted  along  the  flank  of  the  column,  and 
thence  to  a  spot  in  the  neighborhood,  where  a  party  of  officers 
assembled  by  a  sylvan  tent,  constructed  of  the  boughs  of  trees, 
showed  him  that  he  was  at  the  headquarters  of  the  commander  of 
the  corps.  This  tent  was  pitched  upon  a  piece  of  high  ground 
that  aflbrded  a  view  of  the  distant  horizon  in  the  east,  where  a  faint 
streak  of  daylight  lay  like  the  traces  of  a  far-off  town  in  flames, 
against  which  the  forms  of  men  and  horses  were  relieved,  in  bold 
profile,  as  they  now  moved  about  in  the  early  preparations  for  their 
march. 

A  single  faggot  gleamed  within  the  tent,  and,  by  its  ray.  Horse 
Shoe  was  enabled  to  discern  the  well  known  figure  of  Tarleton,  as 
he  conferred  with  a  company  of  officers  around  him.  After  the 
sergeant  had  waited  a  few  moments,  he  was  ordered  into  the  pre¬ 
sence  of  the  group  within  : 

“You  were  found  yesterday,”  said  Tarleton,  “in  suspicious  cir¬ 
cumstances — what  is  your  name,  fellow  ?” 

“  I  am  called  Stephen  Foster  by  name,”  replied  the  sergeant, 
“being  a  stranger  in  these  parts.  At  home  I’m  a  kind  of  a 
gardener  to  a  gentleman  in  Virginia  ;  and  it  isn’t  long  since  I  sot 
out  with  his  daughter  to  come  here  into  Carolina.  She  fell 
sick  by  the  way,  and  yesterday,  whilst  I  was  hunting  up  a  little 
physic  for  her  in  the  woods,  a  gang  of  your  people  came  across 
me  and  fotch  me  here — and  that’s  about  all  that  I  have  got  to 
say.” 

A  series  of  questions  followed,  by  which  the  sergeant  was  com¬ 
pelled  to  give  some  further  account  of  himself,  which  he  contrived 
to  do  with  an  address  that  left  his  questioners  but  little  the  wiser 
as  to  his  real  character  ;  and  which  strongly  impressed  them  with 
the  conviction  that  the  man  they  had  to  deal  with  was  but  a  simple 
and  rude  clown. 

“You  say  you  don’t  know  the  name  of  the  person  at  whose 
house  you  stopped  ?”  inquired  the  commander. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


499 


“  I  disreraember,”  replied  Horse  Shoe ;  “  being,  as  I  said,  a 
stranger  in  the  parts,  and  not  liking  to  make  too  free  with  axing 
after  people’s  names.” 

“  A  precious  lout,  this,  you  have  brought  me.  Lieutenant  Mun- 
roe,”  said  Tarleton,  addressing  the  officer  who  had  hitherto 
had  the  custody  of  the  sergeant.  “  You  don’t  disremember  the 
part  of  Vh-ginia  you  lived  in?”  he  added,  pursuing  his  examina¬ 
tion. 

“  They  have  given  it  the  name  of  Amherst,”  replied  Horse 
Shoe. 

“  And  the  father  of  Miss  Lindsay,  you  say,  resided  there  ?” 

“  Sartainly,  sir.” 

“  There  is  a  gentleman  of  that  name  somewhere  in  Virginia,”  said 
Tarleton,  apart  to  one  of  his  attendants,  “  and  known  as  a  friend  to 
our  cause,  I  think.” 

“  I  have  heard  of  the  family,”  replied  the  person  addressed. 

“  What  has  brought  the  lady  to  Carolina  ?  ” 

“  Consarning  some  business  of  a  friend,  as  I  have  been  told,” 
answered  Horse  Shoe. 

“  It  is  a  strange  errand  for  such  a  time,  and  a  marvellous  shrewd 
conductor  she  has  chosen  !  I  can  make  nothing  out  of  this  fellow. 
You  might  have  saved  yourself  the  trouble  of  taking  charge  of  such 
a  clod,  lieutenant.” 

“  My  orders,”  replied  the  lieutenant,  “  were  to  arrest  all  sus¬ 
picious  persons;  and  I  had  two  reasons  to  suspect  this- man.  First, 
he  was  found  upon  a  spot  that  couldn’t  have  been  better  chosen  for 
a  look-out  if  he  had  been  sent  to  reconnoitre  us  ;  and  second,  his 
horse  showed  some  military  training.” 

“  But  the  booby  himself  was  stupid  enough,”  rejoined  the  com¬ 
mander,  “  to  carry  his  passport  in  his  face.” 

“  I  have  a  paper,  sir,  to  that  purpose,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  putting 
his  hands  into  his  pockets,  i“  it  signifies,  I  was  told, — for  I  can’t 
read  of  my  own  accord — that  I  mought  pasg  free  without 
molestification  from  the  sodgers  of  the,  king — this  is  it,  I  believe, 
sir.” 

“  To  three  suppers  at  the  Rising  Sun,  four  and  six  pencef  said 
Tarleton,  reading.  “  Tush,  this  is  a  tavern  bill  !” 

“  Ha,  ha,  so  it  is,”  exclaimed  Robinson.  “  Well,  I  have  been 


600 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


keeping  that  there  paper  for  a  week  past,  thinking  it  was  my  cer¬ 
tificate — and,  like  a  fool,  I  have  gone  and  tore  up  the  t’other.” 

“AVe  are  wasting  time,  gentlemen,”  said  the  commander. 
“  Turn  this  fellow  loose,  and  let  him  go  his  ways.  But  hark  you, 
did  you  hear  of  a  fight  lately  on  Pedee,  between  some  of  om-  people 
and  Marion — three  days  ago  ?” 

“  They  talked  of  such  a  thing  on  the  river,”  replied  Horse  Shoe. 

“  Well,  and  what  was  said  ?” 

“  Nothing  in  particular  that  I  can  bear  in  mind.” 

“  Like  all  the  rest  we  have  tried  to  get  out  of  him  !  You  don’t 
even  know  which  party  got  the  better  ?” 

“  Oh,  I  have  beam  that,  sii-.” 

“  What  did  you  hear  ?  speak  out !” 

“  Shall  I  give  you  the  circumlocutory  account  of  the  matter  ?” 
asked  Horse  Shoe,  “  or  did  you  wish  me  to  go  into  the  particu¬ 
lars  ?” 

“  Any  account,  so  that  it  he  short.” 

'  “  Then  I  have  beam  that  Marion  gave  the  t’other  side  a  hit  of  a 
heating.” 

“Aye,  aye,  so  I  suppose  !  Another  tale  of  this  Jack  the  Giant 
Killer  !  And  what  has  become  of  Marion  ?” 

“  That’s  onheknownst  to  me,”  replied  Horse  Shoe. 

“  Do  you  remember  the  fool  we  met  at  the  Waxhaws  last 
May  ?”  asked  one  of  the  officers  present,  of  another.  “  This  fellow 
might  pass  for  a  full  brother  in  blood — only  I  think  this  clown  has 
the  less  wit  of  the  two.” 

“  As  heavy  a  lump,  certainly,”  replied  the  officer.  “  This,  you 
say,  is  the  first  time  you  have  been  in  Carolina  ?” 

“  To  my  knowledge,”  replied  the  sergeant. 

“  It  is  broad  day,  gentlemen,”  said  Tarleton ;  “  we  have  been 
squandering  precious  time  upon  an  empty  simpleton.  Give  him 
his  beast  and  let  him  be  gone.  Sirrah,  you  are  free  to  depart. 
But,  look  you,  if  I  hear  any  reports  along  the  road  of  your  having 
seen  me,  or  a  word  about  my  coming.  I’ll  fen-et  you  out  and  have 
you  trussed  upon  a  stake  twenty  feet  long.” 

“  Thank  your  honor,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  as  he  left  the  tent.  “  I 
never  troubles  my  head  with  things  out  of  my  line.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON-. 


501 


Then  seeking  his  horse  he  leisurely  rode  back  by  the  way  he  had 
come  ;  and  as  soon  as  he  found  himself  beyond  the  outposts  of  the  ^ 
corps,  he  urged  Captain  Peter  to  as  much  speed  as  the  late  arduous 
duties  of  the  good  beast  left  him  power  to  exert. 


CHAPTER  XLVm. 


AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  WAR  NOT  UNFAMILIAR  TO  THE  TIME. 

Breakfast  was  just  over  when  R^hinson  was  seen,  from  the  win¬ 
dows  of  Mrs.  Markham’s  parlo/  pricking  along  the  avenue  that) 
conducted  to  the  front  of  the  mansion  ;  and  when  he  drew  up  hi» 
horse  at  the  door,  the  family  were  already  assembled  there  to  gydet 
him.  The  plight,  both  of  himself  and  of  his  steed,  was  such  as  to  tell 
the  best  part  of  his  story — they  had  travelled  far  and  seen  rough 
service.  The  rest  was  supplied  by  the  sergeant  himself,  who,  before 
he  moved  from  the  spot  where  he  had  dismounted,  gave  a  narra¬ 
tive  of  his  adventures,  which  was  listened  to  with  great  anxiety  by 
the  household. 

By  the  sergeant’s  reckoning,  Mrs.  Markham’s  residence  could 
not  be  more  than  twenty  miles  from  the  place  where,  at  daybreak, 
he  had  encountered  the  British  partisan,  whom  he  had  left  with  a  full 
conviction  that  the  expedition  then  on  foot  was  to  be  directed 
against  the  country  lying  upon  the  river.  These  tidings  spread 
consternation  throughout  the  mansion,  and  the  morning  was  passed 
in  all  the  confusion  which  such  an  alarm  might  he  supposed  to 
produce.  The  fright  of  the  females  rendered  them  irresolute,  and 
incapable  of  attending  to  the  most  obvious  precautions  necessary  to 
meet  the  emergency. 

In  this  conjuncture,  Robinson  felt  himself  bound  to  assume  the 
direction  of  affairs.  At  his  suggestion,  the  plate  and  such  other 
valuables  as  were  likely  to  attract  the  cupidity  of  a  licentious  sol¬ 
diery,  were  secreted  in  hiding-places  sufficiently  secure  to  defy  a 
hasty  search.  The  family  was  advised  to  assume  the  appearance  of 
as  much  composure  as  they  could  command  ;  and  the  last  and 
most  emphatic  injunction  of  the  sergeant  was,  to  provide  an  ample 
and  various  repast,  in  the  hope  that  the  ill-will  of  the  visitants 
might  be  conciliated  by  the  display  of  good  cheer.  All  this  was 
accordingly  put  into  a  train  of  accomplishment. 

502 


HOUSE  SHOE  U  O  B I  X  S  0  N  . 


60S 


In  the  midst  of  these  precautions,  the  fears  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  mansion  were  but  too  truly  realized.  It  was  scarcely  noon 
when  the  long  column  of  Tarleton’s  cavalry  was  descried  descend¬ 
ing  the  high  hills  that  lay  in  the  distance,  and,  soon  afterwards, 
taking  the  road  that  led  into  the  plantation. 

Whilst  the  panic  produced  by  this  sight  was  still  fresh,  the  sound 
of  bugles  and  trumpets  showed  that  the  invaders  had  already  turned 
then  steps  towards  the  dwelling,  and  the  next  \'iew  disclosed  them 
deploying  from  a  wood  and  advancing  at  a  full  trot.  The  quick 
beat  of  hoofs  upon  the  soil,  and  the  jangling  sounds  of  sabres  shaken 
against  the  flanks  of  the  horses,  struck  upon  the  terrified  ear  of  the 
proprietress  of  the  estate  like  the  harsh  portents  of  impending  ruin ; 
and  in  the  despan  and  agony  of  her  distress,  she  retreated  hastily 
to  her  chamber,  whither  she  summoned  her  female  domestics,  and 
gave  way  to  a  flood  of  tears.  She  was  followed  by  Mildred,  who, 
touched  by  the  pervading  disquiet  of  the  family,  participated  in 
the  alarm,  and  found  herself  overcome  by  a  terror  which  she  had 
never  before  experienced  in  all  the  scenes  which  she  had  lately 
gone  through.  Obeying  the  instinct  of  her  present  fears,  our  hero¬ 
ine  cowered  beside  her  weepiug  friend,  in  the  midst  of  the  group 
of  clamorous  servants,  and  awaited  in  mute  solicitude  the  coming 
events. 

The  cavalry  had  turned  aside  and  halted  in  front  of  a  barn  some 
distance  from  the  dwelling-house,  and  a  small  party,  consisting 
principally  of  officers  attended  by  a  sergeant’s  guard,  were  imme¬ 
diately  afterwards  seen  galloping  up  to  the  door.  The  air  of  ex¬ 
ultation  exhibited  in  their  movement,  their  loud  jocularity  and 
frequent  laughter,  resembled  the  burst  of  gladsome  riot  with  which 
a  party  of  fox-hunters  are  wont  to  announce  the  first  springing  of 
their  game,  and  gave  evidence  of  tlie  feelings  of  men  who  set  little 
account  upon  the  annoyance  they  threatened  to  a  peaceful  and 
unoffending  household. 

When  the  officei's  of  the  party  had  dismounted  and  entered  the 
hall,  the  first  person  they  encountered  was  Sergeant  Robinson,  who 
had  thoughtfully  posted  himself  in  view  of  the  door ;  and  now,  with 
some  awkward  and  ungainly  bows  and  scraping  of  his  feet  across 
the  floor,  bade  them  welcome. 

“  What,”  said  Tarleton,  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  intruders. 


504 


HOR8E  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


“  have  we  stumbled  so  soon  again  upon  our  shrewd  and  sensible 
ox !  Wise  Master  Stephen  Foster,  well  met !  So  you  are  the 
gentleman-usher  to  your  good  friend,  Mrs.  Markham !  By  my 
faith,  the  old  lady  is  likely  to  have  the  honors  of  her  house  well 
administered  !” 

“  Your  sarvant,  sh,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  again  bowing  and  scraping 
his  foot  with  a  look  of  imperturbable  gravity.  “Mought  I  ax 
your  honor  to  stomp  as  lightly  upon  the  floor  as  you  can  ? 
My  young  lady  is  sick  up  stairs — and  much  noise  is  apt  to  flurry 
her  narves.” 

“  Tread  daintily,  gentlemen,”  said  Tarleton,  laughing,  “  for  your 
gallantry’s  sake  !  A  lady’s  nerves  are  as  delicate  as  the  strings  of 
a  harp,  and  must  not  be  rudely  struck.  The  damsel’s  page  here 
(pointing  to  Horse  Shoe),  puts  down  his  foot  like  a  most  consider¬ 
ate  elephant — soft  as  a  feather,  you  perceive  ;  and  I  would  by  no 
means  have  you  give  so  worshipful  a  master  of  courtesy  cause  to 
complain  of  you.  As  your  wisdom,”  he  added,  again  addressing 
the  sergeant,  “  has  found  out,  by  this  time,  that  you  are  in  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Markham,  although  you  disremembered  that  this 
morning,  I  suppose  you  can  tell  whether  she  is  at  home  ?” 

“  I  can  answer  you  that  she  is  at  home,  sir — that  is,  onless  she 
has  went  out  sence  I  saw  her,  which  is  not  likely,  sir.” 

“  Then,  present  her  Colonel  Tarleton’s  respects,  and  say  that  he 
has  come  to  offer  his  duty  to  her.” 

“  I  suppose  by  that,  you  are  wishing  to  see  the  lady,”  replied  the 
sergeant ;  “  I’ll  let  her  know,  sir.” 

Robinson  retired  for  a  few  moments,  and  when  he  returned  he 
announced  to  the  commander  that  Mrs  Markham  was  not  willing 
to  come  from  her  chamber.  “  But  whatsomever  your  honor  pleases 
to  ax  after,  the  lady  promises  you  shall  have,”  continued  the  sergeant. 

“  Well,  that’s  a  condescension ! — a  good,  comfortable  lady ! 
So,  gentlemen,  you  see  we  are  in  luck ;  a  broad  roof  over  head — 
a  larder  well  stored,  I  hope — and  a  cellar  not  altogether  empty,  I 
think  I  may  undertake  to  promise.  Where  are  your  waiting-men, 
my  nimble  Ganymede?  You  are  a  sluggish  oaf,  fellow,  not  to 
see  that  soldiers  must  have  drink  !” 

Alfred  and  Henry  now  entered  the  hall,  and  the  former  apjiroach- 
ing  Tarleton,  said,  with  a  firm  but  respectful  tone  : 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


505 


■  “  lly  motlier  lias  before  been  visited  by  British  troops,  and  she 
had  so  little  then  to  thank  them  for,  except  their  departure,  that 
the  fear  of  meeting  them  again  has  greatly  alarmed  her.  Our  fami¬ 
ly,  sir,  has  no  older  man  in  it  than  myself — and  out  of  regard  to 
helpless  women — ” 

“  That’s  enough,  my  pert  lad,”  interrupted  Tarleton  ;  “  I  have 
heard  of  your  good  mother  before ;  she  is  somewhat  over  ready  in 
her  zeal  in  behalf  of  Marion’s  ragamufBns  :  and  truly  I  think  she 
is  more  squeamish  than  she  should  be  at  the  sight  of  a  soldier,  when 
she  could  look  upon  such  hang-gallows  knaves  without  shuddering. 
You  have  another  man  in  your  house,  I  see  (directing  his  eye 
towards  Henry  Lindsay,  who  had  seated  himself  in  the  hall) — and 
full  as  old,  I  take  it,  as  yourself.” 

“  I  wish  I  were  a,  man  of  full  age,”  said  Henry,  looking  fearlessly 
at  the  British  ofScer,  and  remaining  fixed  in  his  chair. 

“  Why  so,  my  gay  sparrow-hawk  ?” 

“  I  would  have  disputed  with  you  your  right  to  enter  this  door.” 

“  These  young  cocks  are  ail  trained  to  show  their  game,”  said 
the  Colonel  to  one  of  his  companions.  “  Well,  you  are  a  fine  fel¬ 
low,  and  I  should  be  happy  to  be  better  acquainted  with  you.  A 
little  too  stitf,  perhaps  :  but  you  will  learn  better  as  you  grow  older. 
You  should  thank  me  for  making  holiday  in  your  school  to-day.” 

Here  Robinson  interposed  before  Henry  could  make  the  saucy 
reply  he  meditated,  by  announcing  that  the  company  would  find 
some  cool  water  and  a  supply  of  spirits  in  the  adjoining  room. 
“  Besides,”  he  added,  “  T  have  told  the  house-folks  to  make  ready 
somewhat  in  the  way  of  victuals,  as  I  judged  you  mought  be  a  little 
hungry.” 

“Not  badly  thought  of,  Mr.  Ajax!”  said  one  of  the  oflBcers,  as 
the  party  now  crowded  into  the  room. 

“  Don’t  forget  Stephen  Foster,”  whispered  Robinson,  by  way  of 
admonition  in  regard  to  his  assumed  character,  as  he  passed  by 
the  chair  where  Henry  was  sitting.  “  And  keep  a  civil  tongue  in 
your  head.” 

Henry  nodded  compliance,  and  then,  with  Alfred,  left  the  hall, 
whilst  the  sergeant  repaired  to  the  refreshment  room  to  offer  his 
officious  attentions  to  the  guests. 

Meanwhile,  the  ladies  still  kept  to  their  chamber,  ever  and  anon 

22 


606 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


gazing  out  at  the  window  with  a  solicitous  and  unhappy  interest, 
and  occasionally  receiving  the  highly-colored  reports  of  the  ser¬ 
vants,  who,  as  often  as  any  new  subject  of  wonder  or  fear  occurred 
to  them,  were  plpng  bactvyards  and  forwards  between  the  apart¬ 
ment  and  the  head  of  the  staircase. 

After  an  interval  of  half  an  hour,  during  which  the  uncouth  din 
of  laughter,  of  loud  oaths,  and  of  the  careless  swaggering  of  the 
party  below,  rose  with  a  harsh  note  to  the  ear  of  the  hostess  and 
her  companion,  these  sounds  abruptly  ceased,  and  it  was  evident 
that  the  visitors  had  quitted  the  house.  It  was  with  an  emotion 
of  delight  that  Mrs.  Marhham,  from  the  window,  beheld  Colonel 
Tarleton  and  his  comrades  galloping  towards  the  main  body  of  his 
troops  that  awaited  him  near  the  barn ;  but,  on  repairing  to  the 
hall,  this  sudden  gleam  of  satisfaction  was  as  suddenly  clouded, 
when  the  matron  perceived  a  sentinel  posted  at  the  front  door. 
As  soon  as  she  came  within  speech  of  this  functionary,  he  threw 
up  his  hand  to  his  brow,  as  he  said :  “  The  colonel  commanded  me 
to  make  his  compliments  to  the  ladies,  and  asks  the  honor  of  their 
company  at  dinner.” 

“  Colonel  Tarleton  forgets  himself,”  said  Mrs.  Markham,  with  a 
stately  reserve  that  showed  she  had  now  dismissed  her  fears ;  “  a 
brave  soldier  would  hardly  think  it  a  triumph  to  insult  unprotected 
females.” 

“  He  is  here  to  speak  for  himself,  madam,”  replied  the  sentinel, 
as  Tarleton  at  this  moment  returned  to  the  door. 

The  lady  of  the  house,  thus  taken  by  surprise,  firmly  stood  her 
gi’ound,  and  awaited  in  silence  the  accost  of  the  oflBcer.  Tarleton 
was  somewhat  disconcerted  by  this  unexpected  encounter.  He  had 
entered  with  a  hurried  step,  but  the  moment  he  was  aware  of  the 
presence  of  the  dame,  he  halted  and  removed  his  cap  from  his 
head,  as  he  made  a  low  obeisance. 

“  I  am  too  happy,  madam,”  he  said,  “  in  the  persuasion  that  you 
have  overcome  your  unnecessary  alarm  at  this  visit;  and  feel 
pleased  to  be  afforded  an  opportunity  of  making  my  respects  in 
person.” 

“I  can  conceive  no  suflBcient  reason.  Colonel  Tarleton,  why  a 
defenceless  house  like  mine  should  provoke  the  visit  of  such  a  host 
of  armed  men.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


501 


“Your  house,  madam,  has  some  fame  upon  this  border  for  good 
entertainment.  It  fell  in  my  way,  and  you  will  excuse  me  for  the 
freedom  of  saying,  that  I  boast  myself  too  much  of  a  cavalier  to 
pass  it  by  unmarked  by  some  token  of  my  regard.  Besides,  I  may 
add  without  meaning  to  he  rude,  our  necessities  in  the  article  of 
forage,  madam,  are  quite  as  great  as  General  Marion’s,  who,  I 
understand,  does  not  scruple  sometimes  to  take  his  contribution 
from  you.” 

“  I  should  more  readily  excuse  your  visit,”  replied  the  lady,  “  if 
you  would  time  it  when  General  Marion  was  levying  his  contribu¬ 
tion.  You  might  then  adjust  your  right  to  the  share  you  claim. 
This  house  is  yours,  sir;  and  it  is  not  fit  that  I  should  remain 
to  debate  with  you  your  claim  to  dispose  of  whatever  you  may 
find  in  it.” 

“  Why,  what  a  musty  and  wrinkled  piece  of  insolence  is  here !” 
muttered  the  angry  soldier,  clenching  his  teeth  under  this  rebuke 
as  the  matron  withdrew.  “  Well,  let  the  crones  rail  and  the 
maidens  weep  their  fill !  the  border  is  mine,  and  merrily  will  I  hold 
it,  and  blithely  will  I  light  up  the  river,  too,  before  I  leave  it ! 
Curse  on  these  free-spoken  women  !  W’ho  says  they  are  defenceless 
with  that  supple  weapon  that  God  has  given  them  ?  What  ho,  you 
bag  of  chaff — booby — Foster — I  say  !  Look  you  ;  have  you  all  the 
provisions  in  the  house  set  out  upon  the  tables — and  don’t  spare 
your  peach  brandy,  which  we  have  already  tasted — you  hav'o 
more  of  it.  So  let  us  have  the  best ;  I  shall  feast  with  a  good¬ 
will  to-day,  and  I  will  do  it  plentifully,  or  your  ears  shall  be 
cropped.” 

“  Everything  in  the  kitchen,  sir,  is  going  on  at  a  gallop,”  said 
Horse  Shoe ;  “  and  as  for  the  drinkables,  your  honor  shall  com¬ 
mand  the  house  to  the  last  jug.” 

“  Then  bestir  yourself,  for  I  am  in  no  mood  to  tarry.” 

In  a  brief  lapse  of  time  an  abundant  board  was  spread,  and  the 
leaders  of  the  corps,  consisting  of  some  twenty  or  thirty  officers  of 
all  ranks,  were  gathered  around  it.  A  scene  of  uproar  suc¬ 
ceeded  that  resounded  to  the  roof  with  the  unfeeling  and  licentious 
mirth  of  those  engaged  in  the  carouse. 

When  they  had  eaten  and  drunk  their  fill,  the  greater  portion 
of  the  guests  were  assembled  at  the  front  door.  From  this  position 


508 


HORSE  SHOE  R O B I N S O H . 


there  was  to  be  seen,  at  no  great  distance,  a  small  inclosure  of  not 
above  ten  feet  square,  constructed  with  a  dark  paling,  above  which 
a  venerable  willow  drooped  its  branches.  Towards  this  inclosure 
some  five  or  six  of  the  revellers  repaired,  to  gratify  an  idle  and,  at 
present,  a  maudlin  curiosity.  .  When  they  arrived  here,  they  leaned 
across  the  paling  to  read  the  inscription  upon  a  stone  that  seemed 
but  recently  to  have  been  placed  there.  It  was  a  simple'memorial 
of  the  death  of  Colonel  Markham,  of  the  Carolina  militia,  which 
was  recorded  to  have  taken  place  but  eighteen  months  before  on 
the  Savannah  river  in  an  engagement  with  the  troops  under  Gene¬ 
ral  Prevost.  To  this  was  added,  in  the  spirit  of  the  times  and  in 
accordance  with  the  sentiments  of  the  Whig  leaders  in  the  war  of 
independence,  a  bitter  expression  of  censure  upon  the  barbarous 
disposition  of  the  enemy,  couched  in  homely  but  earnest  phrase, 
and  speaking  the  hate  of  the  survivors  in  the  same  sentence  that 
commended  the  virtues  of  the  dead. 

It  was  an  unpropitious  moment  for  such  a  tablet  to  meet  the  eye 
of  those  who  gazed  upon  it ;  and  when  it  was  read  aloud  by  the 
captain  of  a  troop,  whose  natural  temper,  rendered  savage  by  the 
rudeness  of  the  war,  was  also  at  this  moment  exasperated  almost  to 
intoxication  by  the  freedom  of  the  table,  he  vented  his  curses  in 
loud  and  coarse  rage  against  the  memory  of  him  to  whom  the 
stone  was  dedicated.  This  fire  of  passion  spread  through  the 
group  around  the  tomb,  and  each  man  responded  to  the  first  exe¬ 
cration  by  others  still  deeper  and  more  fierce.  Proclaiming  the 
inscription  to  be  an  insult,  they  made  an  attack  upon  the  paling, 
which  was  instantly  demolished,  and,  seizing  upon  the  largest 
stones  at  hand,  they  assailed  the  tablet  with  such  effect  as  soon  to 
break  it  in  pieces ;  and  then,  with  a  useless  malice,  applied  them¬ 
selves  to  obliterating  the  inscription  upon  the  fragments.  Whilst 
engrossed  with  the  perpetration  of  this  sacrilege,  their  attention 
was  suddenly  aroused  by  the  near  report  of  a  pistol,  the  ball  of 
which,  it  was  discovered,  had  struck  into  the  trunk  of  the  willow. 

“  I  will  kill  some  of  the  scoundrels,  if  I  die  for  it !”  was  the 
exclamation  heard  immediately  after'  the  shot,  and  Alfred  Mark¬ 
ham  was  seen  struggling  with  an  officer  who  had  seized  him. 
The  young  man  had  been  observed  and  followed,  as  he  madly 
rushed  from  a  wing  of  the  mansion  towards  the  burial-place, 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


509 


and  arrested  at  the  moment  that  he  was  levelling  a  second 
pistol. 

“  Henry,  shoot  him  down !”  he  screamed  to  his  companion,  who 
was  now  approaching  ai-med  with  his  carbine. 

“  Let  me  go,  sir !  I  will  not  see  my  father’s  tomb  disturbed  by 
ruflBans.” 

“  Loose  your  hands !”  cried  Henry,  directing  his  passionate 
defiance  to  the  individual  who  wrestled  with  Alfred,  “  loose  your 
hands,  I  say,  or  I  will  fire  upon  you !” 

“  Fire  at  the  drunken  villains  around  my  father’s  grave !”  shouted 
Alfred. 

“  They  shall  have  it,”  returned  Henry,  eagerly,  “  if  it  is  the  last 
shot  I  ever  make.”  And  with  these  words  the  youth  levelled  his 
piece  at  the  same  group  which  had  before  escaped  Alfred’s  aim, 
but,  luckily,  the  carbine  snapped  and  missed  fire.  In  the  next 
instant  Horse  Shoe’s  broad  hand  was  laid  upon  Henry’s  shoulder, 
as  he  exclaimed,  “  Why,  Master  Henry,  have  you  lost  your  wits  ? 
Do  you  want  to  bring  perdition  and  combustion  both,  down  upon 
the  heads  of  the  whole  house  ?” 

“  Galbraith  Robinson,  stand  back !”  ejaculated  Henry.  “  I  am 
not  in  the  humor  to  be  baulked.” 

“  Hush — for  God’s  sake,  hush  ! — foolish  boy,”  returned  Robinson 
with  real  anger.  “  You  are  as  fierce  as  a  young  panther — I  am 
ashamed  of  you !” 

By  this  time  the  whole  company  were  assembled  around  the 
two  young  men,  and  the  violent  outbreak  of  wrath  from  those  at 
whom  the  shot  was  aimed,  as  well  as  from  others  present,  rose  to 
a  pitch  which  the  authority  of  Tarleton  in  vain  sought  to  control. 
Already,  in  this  paroxysm  of  rage,  one  of  the  party,  whose  motions 
had  escaped  notice  in  the  confusion  of  the  scene,  had  hurried  to 
the  kitchen  fire,  where  he  had  snatched  up  a  burning  brand,  and 
hurled  it  into  the  midst  of  some  combustibles  in  a  narrow  apart¬ 
ment  on  the  ground  floor. 

The  clamor  had  drawn  Mrs.  Markham  and  Mildred  to  the 
chamber  window,  and  whilst  they  looked  down  with  a  frightened 
gaze  upon  the  confused  scene  below,  it  was  some  moments  before 
they  became  aware  of  the  participation  of  Henry  and  Alfred  in 
this  sudden  and  angry  broU.  Mildred  was  the  first  to  discern  the 


510 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


two  young  men  as  they  were  dragged  violently  across  the  open 
space  in  front  of  the  mansion  by  the  crowd,  and  to  hear  the  threats 
with  which  this  movement  was  accompanied. 

“  Merciful  Heaven  !”  she  exclaimed,  “  they  have  laid  hands  upon 
Henry  and  Alfred — they  will  kill  my  brother,  my  dear  brother  !” 
Almost  frantic  at  the  danger  that  threatened  Henry  and  his  com¬ 
panion,  she  fled  precipitately  down  the  stam-case,  and  in  a  moment 
stood  confronted  with  Colonel  Tarleton  and  his  soldiers. 

“  Never  fear,  sister,”  cried  out  Henry,  who  was  already  brought 
into  the  hall,  as  he  saw  Mildred  descending  the  stairs.  “  Don’t  be 
alarmed  for  either  Alfred  or  me.  We  are  ready  to  confess  what 
we  did  and  why  we  did  it — and  Colonel  Tarleton,  if  he  is  a  true 
man,  will  not  dare  to  say  we  did  wrong.” 

“  I  charge  you.  Colonel  Tarleton,”  said  Mildred  with  a  firm  but 
excited  voice,  “  as  the  soldier  of  a  Christian  nation,  to  save  the 
people  of  this  house  from  an  inhuman  and  most  wicked  outrage. 
I  implore  you  as  an  oflBcer  who  would  he  esteemed  valiant — and 
as  a  gentleman  who  would  fly  from  dishonor — to  rescue  your 
name  from  the  disgrace  of  this  barbarous  violence.  For  the  sake 
of  mercy — spare  us — spare  us  !” 

As  she  uttered  this  last  ejaculation  her  spirit  yielded  to  the  vehe¬ 
mence  of  her  feelings,  and  she  flung  herself  upon  her  knee  at  the 
feet  of  the  commander.  “  Oh,  sir,  do  not  let  harm  fall  upon  my 
brother.  I  know  not  what  he  has  done,  but  he  is  thoughtless  and 
rash.” 

“  Mildred,”  said  Henry,  immediately  rushing  to  his  sister,  and 
lifting  her  from  the  floor,  “  why  should  you  kneel  before  him,  or 
any  man  here  ?  This  is  no  place  for  you — get  back  to  your 
room.”  Then  turning  to  Tarleton,  he  continued,  “  Alfred  Markham 
and  I  tried  to  shoot  down  your  men,  because  we  saw  them  breaking 
the  tomb.  If  it  was  to  do  over  again  our  hands  are  ready.” 

“  They  have  insulted  the  memory  of  my  father,”  exclaimed 
Alfi'ed,  “  trampled  upon  his  grave,  and  broken  the  stone  that 
covers  him — I  aimed  to  kill  the  drunken  coward  who  did  it.  That 
I  say,  sir,  to  your  face.” 

Tarleton,  for  a  space,  seemed  to  be  bewildered  by  the  scene.  He 
looked  around  him,  as  if  hesitating  what  course  to  pursue,  and 
once  or  twice  made  an  effort  to  obtain  silence  in  the  hall ;  but  the 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


511 


tumult  of  many  voices  in  angry  contention  still  continued.  At  last 
he  presented  his  hand  to  Mildred,  and  with  a  courteous  action  con¬ 
ducted  her  to  a  chair,  then  begged  her  to  calm  her  fears,  as  he 
promised  her  that  no  evil  should  befal  either  of  the  young  men 
whose  indiscreet  tempers  had  occasioned  the  present  uproar. 

“  In  God’s  name  !  have  they  fired  the  dwelling  ?”  he  exclaimed, 
as  at  this  moment  a  volume  of  smoke  rolled  into  the  hall.  “  What 
ho,  there !  O’Neal,  McPherson.  Look  where  this  smoke  comes 
from,  and  instantly  extinguish  the  fire  !  Stir  yourselves,  gentlemen. 
By  my  hilt,  if  any  follower  of  mine  has  been  so  wild  as  to  put  a 
torch  to  this  house,  I  will  hang  him  up  to  the  ridge-pole  of  the 
roof !  Look  to  it — eveiy  man  !  Quick,  quick — there  is  danger 
that  the  flames  may  get  ahead.” 

In  an  instant  nearly  every  soldier  in  the  hall  departed  in  obe¬ 
dience  to  this  order. 

“  I  beg,  madam,”  Tarleton  continued,  “  that  you  will  dismiss 
your  alai'm,  and  rest  upon  my  pledge  that  no  inmate  of  this  house 
shall  be  harmed.  I  conjecture  that  I  have  the  honor  to  speak  to 
Miss  Lindsay — I  have  been  informed  that  that  lady  has  lately 
found  shelter  under  this  roof.” 

“  It  is  my  name,  sir — and  as  the  daughter  of  a  friend  to  your 
quarrel,  let  me  conjure  you  to  see  that  this  house  is  safe ;  I  cannot 
speak  with  you  until  I  am  assured  of  that” 

At  this  juncture,  Mrs.  Markham  was  observed  at  the  head  of  the 
first  flight  of  stairs,  pale  with  aflfright,  wringing  her  hands,  and 
uttering  loud  ejaculations  of  terror  and  grief  as  she  made  her  way 
down  to  the  hall : 

“  Oh,  sir,”  she  said,  as  she  approached  the  commander,  “  we  are 
harmless  women,  and  have  done  nothing  to  call  down  this  ven¬ 
geance  upon  us.  Take  what  you  will — but  spare  my  roof  and 
save  my  family !  God  will  reward  you  even  for  that  act  of 
humanity  to  a  desolate  widow.” 

Before  Tarleton  could  reply  to  the  matron,  a  party  of  ofiScers 
came  hastily  into  his  presence,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  Captain 
O’Neal,  who  reported  that  the  fire  was  extinguished. 

“One  of  the  mess,  to-day,”  he  said,  “heated  with  drink* and 
roused  by  the  foolish  temper  of  these  hot-headed  boys,  threw  a 


612 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


blazing  billet  into  a  closet.  Luckily,  we  reached  the  spot  before 
any  great  harm  was  done.  The  chaps  should  be  switched,  and 
taught  better  manners.  It  was  a  silly  affair  and  might  have  made 
mischief.” 

“  See  that  the  offender  be  arrested,”  replied  Tarleton,  “  I  will 
take  measures  to  curb  this  license.  These  meddling  youngsters, 
too — however,  I  can’t  blame  them,  they  had  provocation,  I  con¬ 
fess — and  this  war  gives  an  edge  to  all  the  inetal  of  the  country. 
Instead  of  pop-guns  now  every  baby  has  his  powder  and  ball — 
dismiss  the  boys.  To  your  post,  captain,  and  order  every  man  to 
join  his  company.  Now,  madam,”  he  added  in  a  tone  of  con¬ 
ciliation  to  Mrs.  Markham,  as  soon  as  the  hall  was  cleared,  “  I  am 
sure  you  will  not  accuse  me  of  incivility.  My  people  have  with¬ 
drawn — the  fire  is  extinguished — these  inconsiderate  lads  at  liberty : 
have  I  answered  your  wish  ?” 

“  You  have  won  the  gratitude  of  a  mother,”  replied  the  dame, 
“  and  the  respect  of  an  enemy.  I  am  bound  to  say  to  you,  in 
return,  that  I  cheerfully  surrender  to  you  whatever  you  may 
choose  to  take  from  my  estate  for  the  supply  of  your  soldiers. 
Alfred,  my  son,  give  me  your  arm,  and  help  me  to  my  chamber — 
I  am  feeble  and  faint.  I  must  ask  your  permission  to  withdraw,” 
she  continued,  as  she  courtesied  to  Tarleton,  and  ascended  the 
stairs. 

“  And  I,  too,  must  take  my  leave,”  said  Tarleton.  “  But  before 
I  go  I  may  claim  the  privilege  of  a  word  with  Miss  Lindsay.  You 
spoke  of  your  father,  madam  ?  and,  especially,  as  a  friend  of  our 
arms.  I  have  been  told  he  lives  in  Yirginia,  Philip  Lindsay,  the 
proprietor  of  a  seat  called  ‘  Tlie  Dove  Cote,’  a  royalist  too — am  I 
right  ?” 

“  So,  my  father  is  known,  sir.” 

“  That  name  has  stood  you  in  stead  to-day,  madam.  And  this 
is  your  brother  ?  I  should  think  he  is  hardly  of  your  father’s 
mind  in  regard  to  our  quaiTel.  This  way,  my  thoughtless  young 
gallant !  It  was  a  wild,  bold,  and  very  conceited  thing  of  you  to 
be  challenging  my  unruly  dragoons — and  would  have  been  no  less 
so,  if  you  had  had  twenty  score  of  tall  fellows  at  your  back.  But 
it  is  past  now,  and  you  need  not  apologize  for  it — it  showed  mettle 
at  least’,  and  we  never  quarrel  with  a  man  for  that.  May  I 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


513 


inquire,  Miss  Lindsay,  in  what  direction  you  travel  ?  for  I  learn, 
you  are  but  a  sojourner  here.  It  may  be  in  my  power  to  insure 
your  safe-conduct.” 

“  I  seek  your  general.  Lord  Cornwallis,  on  matters  of  private 
concern,”  replied  Mildred,  “  and  if  I  might  venture  to  ask  it  of 
Colonel  Tarleton,  his  service  in  affording  me  an  unquestioned 
passage,  would  be  a  favor  that  I  should  gratefully  acknow¬ 
ledge.” 

“  The  obligation  will  be  on  my  side,  madam.*  It  will  be  a  plea¬ 
sure  to  me  to  believe  that  I  can  serve  a  lady,  much  more  the 
daughter  of  an  honorable  subject  of  the  king.  Permit  me,  with¬ 
out  further  parley,  for  time  presses  at  this  moment,  to  say  that  I 
will  leave  an  escort  behind  me  under  the  command  of  a  trusty 
oflScer,  who  will  wait  your  pleasure  to  conduct  you,  by  the  safest 
and  easiest  journey  to  head-quarters.  Your  commands,  madam, 
,  shall  in  all  respects  regulate  his  motions.  My  communications  with 
his  lordship  shall  announce  your  coming.  Now,  Miss  Lindsay, 
with  my  best  wishes  for  your  safety  and  success,  I  take  my  leave ; 
and,  as  a  parting  request,  I  venture  to  hope  you  will  do  me  the 
justice  to  say,  that  Tarleton  is  not  such  a  gi-aceless  sinner  as  his 
enemies  have  sometimes  been  pleased  to  represent  him.” 

These  last  words  were  accompanied  by  a  laugh,  and  a  somewhat 
bluff  courtesy,  as  the  speaker  swayed  his  rigid  and  ungainly  figure 
into  a  succession  of  awkward  bows  by  which  he  retreated  to  the 
door. 

“  I  shall  be  happy  on  all  occasions,”  replied  Mildred,  whilst  the 
soldier  was  thus  strenuously  playing  off  the  graces  of  a  gallant, 
“  to  do  justice  to  the  kindness  which  I  have  experienced  at  Colonel 
Tarleton’s  hands.” 

“  There,  Mildred,”  said  Henry,  when  Tarleton  had  disappeared, 
“  you  see  things  have  gone  very  pat  for  us.  That  comes  of  letting 
these  fellows  see  who  they  have  to  deal  with.  A  little  powder  and 
ball  is  a  good  letter  of  recommendation  to  the  best  of  their  gang. 
If  my  carbine  hadn’t  missed  fire  to-day,  Tarleton  would  have  been 
short  by  one  bottle-holder,  at  least,  when  he  set  out  to  steal  liquor 
from  the  country  cupboards.” 

“  It  has  ended  well,  brother,”  replied  Mildred,  “  but  it  does  not 
become  you  to  boast  of  what  you  have  done.  It  was  a  rash  and 

22* 


5U 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


dangerous  deed,  and  had  nearly  brought  ruin  upon  this  friendly 
family.” 

“  Tut,  sister !  you  are  only  a  woman.  You  wouldn’t  have  found 
the  colonel  so  civil  if  we  hadn’t  taught  him  to  look  after  his  men.” 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 


MILDRED  ARRIVES  AT  THE  TERM  OF  HER  JOURNEY. - THE  READElt 

IS  FAVORED  WITH  A  GLIMPSE  OF  A  DISTINGUISHED  PERSONAGE. 

Cornwallis,  after  the  battle  of  Camden,  turned  his  thoughts  to 
the  diligent  prosecution  of  his  conquests.  The  invasion  of  North 
Carolina  and  Vu-ginia  was  a  pm-pose  to  which  he  had  looked,  from 
the  commencement  of  this  campaign,  and  he  now,  accordingly, 
made  every  preparation  for  the  speedy  advance  of  his  army.  The 
sickness  of  a  portion  of  his  troops  and  the  want  of  supplies  ren¬ 
dered  some  delay  inevitable,  and  this  interval  was  employed  in 
more  fully  organizing  the  civil  government  of  the  conquered  pro¬ 
vince,  and  in  strengthening  his  frontier  defences,  by  detaching  con-* 
siderable  parties  of  men  towards  the  mountains.  The  largest  of 
these  detachments  was  sent  to  reinforce  Ferguson,  to  whom  had 
been  confided  the  operations  upon  the  north-western  border. 

The  chronicles  of  the  time  inform  us  that  the  British  general  lay 
at  Camden  until  the  8th  of  September,  at  which  date  he  set  for¬ 
ward  towards  North  Carolina.  His  movement  was  slow  and 
cautious,  and  for  some  tirde,  his  head-quarters  were  established  at 
the  Waxhaws,  a  position  directly  upon  the  border  of  the  province 
about  to  be  invaded.  At  this  post  our  story  now  "finds  him,  the 
period  being  somewhere  about  the  commencement  of  the  last 
quarter  of  the  month. 

A  melancholy  train  of  circumstances  had  followed  the  fight  at 
Camden,  and  had  embittered  the  feelings  of  the  contending  parties 
against  each  other  to  an  unusual  degree  of  exasperation.  The 
most  prominent  of  these  topics  of  anger  was  the  unjftst  and  severe 
construction  which  the  British  authorities  had  given  to  the  obliga¬ 
tions  which  were  supposed  to  affect  such  of  the  inhabitants  of 
South  Carolina,  as  had,  after  the  capitulation  of  Charleston,  sm-- 
rendered  themselves  as  prisoners  on  parole,  or  received  protections 

615 


516 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


from  the  new  government.  A  proclamation,  issued  by  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  in  June,  annulled  the  paroles,  and  ordered  all  who  had  ob¬ 
tained  them  to  render  military  service,  as  subjects  of  the  king. 
This  order,  which  the  prisoners,  as  well  as  those  who  had  obtained 
protections,  held  to  be  a  dissolution  of  their  contract  with  the  new 
government,  was  disobeyed  by  a  large  number  of  the  inhabitants, 
many  of  whom  had,  immediately  after  the  proclamation,  joined 
the  American  army. 

Cornwallis  permitted  himself,  on  this  occasion,  to  be  swayed  by 
sentiments  unworthy  of  the  character  generally  imputed  to  him. 
Many  of  the  liberated  inhabitants  were  found  in  the  ranks  of  Gates 
at  Camden,  and  several  were  made  prisoners  on  the  field.  These 
latter,  by  the  orders  of  the  British  general,  were  hung  almost 
without  the  form  of  an  inquiiy  :  and  it  may  well  be  supposed  that, 
in  the  heat  of  war  and  ferment  of  passion,  such  acts  of  rigor,  de¬ 
fended  on  such  light  grounds,  were  met  on  the  opposite  side  by  a 
severe  retribution. 

Almost  every  day,  during  the  British  commander’s  advance, 
some  of  the  luckless  citizens  of  the  province  whom  this  harsh  con¬ 
struction  of  duty  afiected,  were  brought  into  the  camp  of  the  in¬ 
vaders,  and  the  soldiery  had  grown  horribly  familiar  with  the 
frequent  military  executions  that  ensued. 

It  was  in  the  engrossment  of  the  occupations  and  cares  presented 
in  this  brief  reference  to  the  history  of  the  time,  that  I  have  now 
to  introduce  my  reader  to  Cornwallis. 

He  had  resolved  to  move  forward  on  his  campaign.  Orders 
were  issued  to  prepare  for  the  march,  and  the  general  had  an¬ 
nounced  his  determination  to  review  the  troops  before  they  broke 
ground.  A  beautiful,  bright,  and  cool  autumnal  morning  shone 
upon  the  wide  plain,  where  an  army  of  between  two  and  three 
thousand  men  was  drawn  out  in  line.  The  tents  of  the  recent  en¬ 
campment  had  already  been  struck,  and  a  long  airay  of  baggage- 
wagons  were  now  upon  the  high-road,  slowly  moving  to  a  point 
assigned  them  in  the  route  of  the  march.  Cornwallis,  attended  by 
a  score  of  officers,  still  occupied  a  small  farm-house  which  had 
lately  been  his  quarters.  A  number  of  saddle-horses  in  the  charge 
of  their  grooms,  and  fully  equipped  for  service,  were  to  be  seen  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  door;  and  the  prineip  d  apartment  of  the 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


517 


house  showed  that  some  of  the  loiterers  of  the  company  were  yet 
engaged  in  despatching  the  morning  meal.  The  aides-de-camp 
were  seen  speeding  between  the  army  and  the  general,  with  that 
important  and  neck- endangering  haste  which  characterizes  the  tribe 
of  these  functionaries ;  and  almost  momentarily  a  courier  arrived, 
hearing  some  message  of  interest  to  the  commander-in-chief. 

Cornwallis  himself  sat  in  an  inner  room,  busily  engaged  with 
one  of  his  principal  officers  in  inspecting  some  documents  regard¬ 
ing  the  detail  of  his  force.  Apart  from  them,  stood,  with  hat  in 
hand  and  in  humble  silence,  a  young  ensign  of  infantry. 

“  Your  name,  sir  ?”  said  Cornwallis,  as  he  threw  aside  the  papers 
which  he  had  been  perusing,  and  now  addressed  himself  to  the 
young  officer. 

“Ensign  Talbot,  of  the  thirty-third  Foot,”  replied  the  young 
man  :  “  I  have  come  by  the  order  of  the  adjutant-general  to  inform 
your  lordship  that  I  have  just  returned  to  my  regiment,  having 
lately  been  captured  by  the  enemy  while  marching  with  the  third 
convoy  of  the  Camden  prisoners  to  Charleston.” 

“  Ha !  you  were  of  that  party !  What  was  the  number  of 
prisoners  you  had  in  charge  ?” 

“  One  hundred  and  fifty,  so  please  your  lordship.” 

“  They  were  captured  ” — 

“  On  Santee,  by  the  rebels  Marion  and  Horry,”  interrupted  the 
ensign.  “  I  have  been  in  the  custody  of  the  rebels  for  a  week,  but 
contrived,  a  few  days  since,  to  make  my  escape.” 

“  Where  found  the  rebels  men  to  master  you  ?” 

“  Even  from  the  country  through  which  we  journeyed,”  replied 
the  ensign. 

“  The  beggarly  runagates !  Who  can  blame  us.  Major 
M‘Arthur,”  said  the  general,  appealing  to  the  officer  by  his  side, 
with  an  interest  that  obviously  spoke  the  contest  in  his  own  mind 
in  regard  to  the  justice  of  the  daily  executions  which  he  had 
sanctioned :  “  who  can  blame  us  for  hanging  up  these  recreants  for 
their  violated  faith,  with  such  thick  perfidy  before  our  eyes  ?  This 
Santee  district,  to  a  man,  had  given  their  paroles  and  taken  my 
protection ;  and,  now,  the  first  chance  they  have  to  play  me  a 
trick,  they  are  up  and  at  work,  attacking  our  feeble  escorts  that 
should,  in  their  sickly  state,  have  rather  looked  to  them  for  aid. 


518 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


I  will  carry  out  the  work ;  by  ray  sword,  it  shall  go  on  sternly ! 
Enough,  Ensign,  back  to  your  company,”  he  said,  bowing  to  the 
young  officer,  who  at  once  left  the  room. 

“  What  is  your  lordship’s  pleasrae  regarding  this  Adam 
Cusack  ?”  inquired  M'Ailhur. 

“  Oh,  aye  !  I  had  well  nigh  forgotten  that  man.  He  was 
taken,  I  think,  in  the  act  of  firing  on  a  ferry-boat  at  Cheraw  ?” 

“  The  ball  passed  through  the  hat  of  my  Lord  Dunglas,”  said 
M‘Arthur. 

“  The  lurking  hound !  A  liege  subject  turning  truant  to  his  duty ; 
e’en  let  him  bide  the  fate  of  his  brethren.” 

M‘ Arthur  merely  nodded  his  head,  and  Cornwallis,  rising  from 
his  chair,  strode  a  few  paces  backwards  and  forwards  through  the 
room.  “  I  would  tune  my  bosom  to  mercy,”  he  said,  at  length, 
“  and  win  these  dog-headed  rebels  back  to  their  duty  to  their 
king  by  kindness ;  but  goodwill  and  charity  towards  them  fall 
upon  their  breasts  like  water  on  a  heated  stone,  which  is  thrown 
back  in  hisses.  No,  no,  that  day  is  past,  and  they  shall  feel  the 
rod.  We  walk  in  danger  whilst  we  leave  these  serpents  in  the 
gi’ass.  Order  the  gentlemen  to  horse.  Major  M‘ Arthur  ;  we  must 
be  stirring.  Let  this  fellow,  Cusack,  be  dealt  with  like  the  rest. 
Gentlemen,”  added  the  chief,  as  he  appeared  at  the  door  amidst 
the  group  who  awaited  his  coming,  “to  your  several  com¬ 
mands  !” 

Captain  Brodrick,  the  principal  aide,  at  this  moment  arrested  the 
preparations  to  depart,  by  placing  in  Cornwallis’s  hand  a  letter 
which  had  just  been  brought  by  a  dragoon  to  head-quarters. 

The  general  broke  the  seal,  and,  running  his  eye  over  the 
contents,  said,  as  he  handed  the  letter  to  the  aide,  “  This  is  some¬ 
thing  out  of  the  course  of  the  campaign  ;  a  letter  from  a  lady,  now 
at  the  picquet-guard,  and  it  seems  she  desires  to  speak  with  me. 
Who  brought  the  billet,  captain  ?” 

“  This  dragoon,  one  of  a  special  escort  from  the  legion.  They 
have  in  charge  a  party  of  travellers,  who  have  journeyed  hither 
under  Tarleton’s  own  pledge  of  passport.” 

“  Captain,”  replied  Cornwallis,  “  mount  and  seek  the  party. 
Conduct  them  to  me  without  delay.  What  toy  is  this  that  brings 
a  lady  to  my  camp  ?” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


519 


The  aide-de-camp  mounted  his  horse,  and  galloped  off  with  the 
dragoon.  He  was  conducted  far  beyond  the  utmost  limit  of  the 
line  of  soldiers,  and  at  length  arrived  at  a  small  outpost,  where 
some  fifty  men  were  drawn  up,  under  the  command  of  an  officer 
of  the  picquet-guard,  which  was  about  returning  to  join  the  main 
body  of  the  army.  Here  he  found  Mildred  and  Henry  Lindsay, 
and  their  two  companions.  Horse  Shoe  and  old  Isaac,  attended  by 
the  small  escort  furnished  by  Tarleton.  This  party  had  been  two 
days  on  the  road  from  Mrs.  Markham’s,  and  had  arrived  the  pre¬ 
ceding  night  at  a  cottage  in  the  neighborhood,  where  they  had 
found  tolerable  quarters.  They  had  advanced  this  morning,  at  an 
early  hour,  to  the  corps  de  garde  of  the  picquet,  where  Mildred 
preferred  remaining  until  Henry  could  despatch  a  note  to  Lord 
Cornwallis  apprising  him  of  their  visit. 

When  Captain  Brodrick  rode  up,  the  "travellers  were  already  on 
horseback  and  prepared  to  move.  The  aide-de-camp  respectfully 
saluted  Miss  Lindsay  and  her  brother,  and  after  a  short  parley 
with  the  officer  of  the  escort,  tendered  his  services  to  the  strangers 
to  conduct  them  to  head-quarters. 

“  The  general,  madam,”  he  said,  “  would  have  done  himself  the 
honor  to  wait  on  you,  but  presuming  that  you  were  already  on 
your  route  to  his  quarters,  where  you  might  be  better  received 
than  in  the  bivouac  of  an  outpost,  he  is  led  to  hope  that  he 
consults  your  wish  and  your  comfort  both,  by  inviting  you  to 
partake  of  such  accommodation  as  he  is  able  to  aff’ord  you.” 

“  My  mission  would  idly  stand  on  Ceremony,  sir,”  replied  Mil¬ 
dred.  “  I  thank  Lord  Cornwallis  for  the  promptness  with  which 
he  has  answered  my  brother’s  message.” 

“We  will  follow  you,  sir,”  said  Henry. 

The  party  now  rode  on. 

Their  path  lay  along  the  skirts  of  the  late  encampment  upon  the 
border  of  an  extensive  plain,  on  the  opposite  side  of  which  the 
army  was  drawn  out ;  and  it  was  with  the  exultation  of  a  boy, 
that  Henry,  as  they  moved  forward,  looked  upon  the  long  line  of 
troops  glittering  in  the  bright  sunshine,  and  heard  the  drums 
rolling  their  spirited  notes  upon  the  air. 

When  they  arrived  at  a  point  where  the  road  emerged  from  a 
narrow  strip  of  forest,  they  could  discern,  at  the  distance  of  a  few 


520 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


hundred  paces,  the  quarters  of  the  commander-in-chief.  Imme¬ 
diately  on  the  edge  of  this  wood,  a  small  party  of  soldiers  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  visitors  by  the  earnest  interest  with  which  they 
stood  around  a  withered  tree,  and  gazed  aloft  at  its  sapless  and 
huge  boughs.  Before  anything  was  said,  Mildred  had  already  ridden 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  circle,  where  turning  her  eyes  upwards  she 
saw  the  body  of  a  man  swung  in  the  air  by  a  cord  attached  to 
one  of  the  widest-spreading  branches.  The  unfortunate  being  was 
just  struggling  in  the  paroxysms  of  death,  as  his  person  was 
swayed  backwards  and  forwards,  with  a  slow  motion,  by  the 
breeze. 

“  Oh,  God !  what  a  sight  is  here  !”  exclaimed  the  lady.  “  I 
cannot,  will  not  go  by  this  spot.  Henry — brother — I  cannot 
pass.” 

The  aide-de  camp  checked  his  horse,  and  grasped  her  arm, 
before  her  brother  could  reach  her,  and  Horse  Shoe,  at  the  same 
moment,  sprang  to  the  ground  and  seized  her  bridle. 

“I  should  think  it  but  a  decent  point  of  war  to  keep  such 
sights  from  women’s  eyes,”  said  Robinson,  somewhat  angrily. 

“  Peace,  sirrah,”  returned  the  aide,  “  you  are  saucy.  I  trust, 
madarfi,  you  are  not  seriously  ill  ?  I  knew  not  of  this  execution, 
or  I  should  have  spared  you  this  unwelcome  spectacle.  Pray, 
compose  yourself,  and  believe,  madam,  it  was  my  ignorance  that 
brought  you  into  this  difficulty.” 

“  I  -will  not  pass  it,”  cried  Mildred  wildly,  as  she  sprang  from 
her  horse  and  ran  some  paces  back  towards  the  wood,  with  her 
hands  covering  her  face.  In  a  moment  Henry  was  by  her  side. 

“  Nay,  sister — dear  sister,”  he  said,  “  do  not  take  it  so  grievously. 
The  officer  did  not  know  of  this.  There  now,  you  are  better  ;  we 
will  mount  again,  and  ride  around  this  frightful  place.” 

Mildred  gradually  regained  her  self-possession,  and  after  a  few 
minutes  was  again  mounted  and  making  a  circuit  through  the 
wood  to  avoid  this  appalling  spectacle. 

“  Who  is  this  man  ?”  asked  Henry  of  the  aide-de-camp,  in  a  half 
whisper ;  “  and  what  has  he  done,  that  they  have  hung  him  ?” 

“  It  is  an  every-day  tale,”  replied  the  officer  ;  “  a  rebel  traitor, 
who  has  broken  his  allegiance,  by  taking  arms  against  the  king  in 
his  own  conquered  province.  I  keep  no  count  of  these  fellows ;  but  I 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


621 


believe  this  is  a  bold  rebel  by  the  name  of  Adam  Cusack,  that  was 
caught  lately  at  the  Cheraw  ferry ;  and  our  boobies  must  be 
packing  him  off  to  head-quarters  for  us  to  do  their  hangman’s 
work.” 

“  If  we  were  to  hang  all  of  your  men  that  we  catch,”  replied 
Henry,  “  hemp  is  an  article  that  would  rise  in  price.” 

“  What,  sir,”  returned  the  officer,  with  a  look  of  surprise,  “  do 
you  class  yourself  with  the  rebels  ?  What  makes  you  here  under 
Tarleton’s  safeguard?  I  thought  you  must  needs  be  friends,  at 
least,  from  the  manner  of  your  coming.” 

“  We  ride,  sir,  where  we  have  occasion,”  said  Henry,  “  and  if 
we  ride  wrong  now,  let  his  lordship  decide  that  for  us,  and  we  will 
return.” 

By  this  time  the  company  had  reached  head-quarters,  where 
Mildred  found  herself  in  the  presence  of  Lord  Cornwallis. 

“  Though  on  the  wing.  Miss  Lindsay,”  said  his  lordship,  as  he 
respectfully  met  the  lady  and  her  brother  upon  the  porch  of  the 
dwelling-house,  “  I  have  made  it  a  point  of  duty  to  postpone 
weighty  matters  of  business  to  receive  your  commands.” 

Mildred  bowed  her  head,  and  after  a  few  words  of  courtesy  on 
either  side,  and  a  formal  introduction  of  herself  and  her  brother  to 
the  general  as  the  children  of  Philip  Lindsay,  “  a  gentleman  pre¬ 
sumed  to  be  well  known  to  his  lordship,”  and  some  e.xpressions  of 
surprise  and  concern  on  the  part  of  the  chief  at  this  unexpected 
announcement,  she  begged  to  be  permitted  to  converse  with  him 
in  private.  When,  in  accordance  with  this  wish,  she  found  herself 
and  her  brother  alone  with  the  general,  in  the  small  parlor  of 
the  house,  she  began,  with  a  trembling  accent  and  blanched 
cheek — 

“  I  said,  my  lord,  that  we  were  the  children  of  Philip  Lindsey, 
of  the  Dove  Cote,  in  Amherst,  in  the  province  of  Virginia ;  and 
being  taught  to  believe  that  my  father  has  some  interest  with 
your  lordship — ” 

“  He  is  a  worthy,  thoughtful,  and  wise  gentleman,  of  the  best 
consideration  amongst  the  friends  of  the  royal  cause,”  interrupted 
the  earl,  “  so  speak  on,  madam,  and  speak  calmly.  Take  your 
time,  your  father’s  daughter  shall  not  find  me  an  unwilling 
listener.” 


522 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  My.  fother  was  away  from  home,”  interposed  Henry,  “  and 
tidings  came  to  ns  that  a  friend  of  ours  was  most  wickedly  defamed 
and  belied,  by  a  charge  carried  to  the  ears  of  your  lordship ;  as 
we  were  told,  that  Major  Arthur  Butler  of  the  Continental  army 
who  had  been  made  a  prisoner  by  your  red-coats  somehow  or 
other — for  I  forget  how — but  the  charge  was  that  he  had  contrived 
a  plan  to  carry  off  my  father  from  the  Dove  Cote — if  not  to  kill 
him,  which  was  said,  besides — and  upon  that  charge,  it  was 
reported  that  your  people  were  going  to  hang  or  shoot  him — hang, 
I  suppose,  from  what  we  just  now  saw  over  here  in  the  woods — 
and  that  your  lordship  had  given  orders  to  have  the  thing  put  off 
until  the  major  could  prove  the  real  facts  of  the  case.” 

“  The  tale  is  partly  true,  young  sir,”  said  Cornwallis.  “  We 
have  a  prisoner  of  that  name  and  rank.” 

“  My  sister  Mildred  and  myself,  thinking  no  time  was  to  be  lost, 
have  come  to  say  to  your  lordship  that  the  whole  story  is  a  most 
sinful  lie,  hatched  on  purpose  to  make  mischief,  and  most  probably 
by  a  fellow  by  the  name  of - ” 

“  My  brother  speaks  too  fast,”  interrupted  Mildred.  “  It  deeply 
concerned  us  to  do  justice  to  a  friend  in  this  matter.  If  my  father 
had  been  at  home  a  letter  to  your  lordship  would  have  removed 
all  doubts  ;  but,  alas  !  he  was  absent,  and  I  knew  not  what  to  do, 
but  to  come  personally  before  your  lordship,  to  assure  you  that  to 
the  perfect  knowledge  of  our  whole  family,  the  tale  from  beginning 
to  end  is  a  malicious  fabrication.  Major  Butler  loves  my  father,  and 
would  be  accounted  one  of  his  nearest  and  dearest  friends.” 

Cornwallis  listened  to  this  disclosure  with  a  perplexed  and 
bewildered  conjecture,  to  unravel  the  strange  riddle  which  it  pre¬ 
sented  to  his  mind. 

“  How  may  I  understand  you.  Miss  Lindsay  ?”  he  said ;  “  this 
Major  Butler  is  in  the  service  of  Congress  ?” 

“  Even  so.  Your  lordship  speaks  truly.” 

“  Your  father — ray  friend,  Philip  Lindsay,  is  a  faithful  and  per¬ 
severing  loyalist.” 

“  To  the  peril  of  his  life  and  fortune,”  replied  Mildred.  ■ 

“  And  yet  Butler  is  his  friend  ?” 

“  He  would  be  esteemed  so,  if  it  please  your  lordship — and,  in 
heart  and  feehng,  is  so.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


523 


“  He  is  related  to  your  family,  perhaps  ?” 

“  Related  iu  atfection,  my  lord,  and  plighted  love,”  said  Mildred, 
blushing  and  casting  her  eyes  upon  the  ground. 

So  ! — Now  I  apprehend.  And  there  are  bonds  between 
you  ?” 

“  I  may  not  answer  your  lordship,”  returned  the  lady.  “  It  only 
imports  our  present  business  to  tell  your  lordship,  tl  at  Arthur 
Butler  never  came  to  the  Dove  Cote  but  with  the  purest  purpose 
of  good  to  all  who  lodged  beneath  its  roof.  He  has  never  come 
there  but  that  I  was  apprised  of  his  intent ;  and  never  thought 
rose  in  his  heart  that  did  not  breathe  blessings  upon  all  that 
inhabit  near  my  father.  Oh,  my  lord,  it  is  a  base  trick  of  an 
enemy  to  do  him  harm ;  and  they  have  contrived  this  plot  to 
impose  upon  your  lordship’s  generous  zeal  in  my  father’s 
behalf.” 

“  It  is  a  strange  story,”  said  Cornwallis.  “  And  does  your  father 
know  nothing  of  this  visit  ?  Have  you.  Miss  Lindsay,  committed 
yourself  to  all  the  chances  of  this  rude  war,  and  undertaken  this 
long  and  toilsome  journey,  to  vindicate  a  rebel  charged  with  a  most 
heinous  device  of  perfidy  ?  It  is  a  deep  and  painful  interest  that 
could  move  you  to  this  enterprise.” 

“  My  lord,  my  mission  requires  a  frank  confidence.  I  have  heard 
my  father  say  you  had  a  generous  and  feeling  heart — that  you 
were  a  man  to  whom  the  king  had  most  wisely  committed  his 
cause  in  this  most  trying  war  :  that  your  soul  was  gifted  with  mode¬ 
ration,  wisdom,  forecast,  firmness — and  that  such  a  spirit  as  yours 
was  fit  to  master  and  command  the  rude  natures  of  soldiers,  and 
to  compel  them  to  walk  in  the  paths  of  justice  and  mercy.  All 
this  and  more  have  I  heard  my  father  say,  and  this  encouraged 
me  to  seek  you  in  your  camp,  and  to  tell  you  the  plain  and  undis¬ 
guised  truth  touching  those  charges  against  Major  Butler.  As 
Heaven  above  hears  me,  I  have  said  nothing  but  the  simple  truth. 
Arthur  Butler  never  dreamt  of  harm  to  my  dear  father.” 

“  He  is  a  brave  soldier,”  said  Henry,  “  and  if  your  lordship 
would  give  him  a  chance,  and  put  him  before  the  man  who  invented 
the  lie,  he  would  make  the  scoundrel  eat  his  words,  and  they 
should  be  handed  to  him  on  the  major’s  sword-point.” 

“  The  gentleman  is  happy,”  said  the  chief,  “  in  two  such  zealous 


524 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


friends.  \  ou  have  not  answered  me — is  your  father  aware  of  this 
visit,  Miss  Lindsay  ?” 

He  is  ignorant  even  of  the  nature  of  the  charge  against  Arthur 
Butler,”  replied  the  lady.  “  He  was  absent  from  the  Dove  Cote 
when  the  news  arrived  ;  and,  fearing  that  delay  might  be  disastrous, 
we  took  the  matter  in  hand  ourselves.” 

“  You  might  have  written.” 

“  The  subject,  so  please  your  lordship,  was  too  near  to  our  hearts 
to  put  it  to  the  hazard  of  a  letter.” 

“  It  is  a  warm  zeal,  and  deserves  to  be  requited  with  a  life’s 
devotion,”  said  Cornwallis.  “  You  insinuated,  young  sir,  just  now, 
that  you  suspected  the  author  of  this  imputed  slander.” 

“  My  brother  is  rash,  and  speaks  hastily,  ”  interrupted  Mildred. 

“  Whom  were  you  about  to  name  ?  ”  asked  the  general,  of 
Henry. 

“  There  was  a  man  named  Tyrrel,”  replied  the  youth,  “  that  has 
been  whispering  in  my  father’s  ear  somewhat  concerning  a  pro¬ 
posal  for  my  sister”  (here  Mildred  cast  a  keen  glance  at  her  brother 
and  bit  her  lip)  “  and  they  say,  love  sometimes  makes  men  desperate, 
and  I  took  a  passing  notion  that,  may  be,  he  might  have  been  at  the 
bottom  of  it ;  I  know  nothing  positively  to  make  me  think  so,  but 
only  speak  from  what  I  have  read  in  books.” 

Cornwallis  smiled  as  he  replied  playfully ;  “  Tush,  my  young 
philosopher,  you  must  not  take  your  wisdom  from  romances.  I 
have  heard  of  Tyrrel,  and  will  stand  his  surety  that  love  has 
raised  no  devil  to  conjure  such  mischief  in  his  breast.  What  will 
satisfy  your  errand  hither,  Miss  Lindsay  ?” 

“  A  word  from  your  lordship,  that  no  harm  shall  befall  Arthur 
Butler  beyond  the  necessary  durance  of  a  prisoner  of  war.” 

“  That  is  granted  you  at  once,”  replied  the  general,  “  granted 
for  your  sake,  madam,  in  the  spirit  of  a  cavalier  who  would  deny 
no  lady’s  request.  And  I  rather  grant  it  to  you,  because  certain 
threats  have  been  sent  me  from  some  of  the  major’s  partisans, 
holding  out  a  determination  to  retaliate  blood  for  blood.  These 
had  almost  persuaded  me  to  run,  against  my  own  will,  to  an 
extreme.  I  would  have  you  let  it  be  known,  that  as  a  free  grace 
to  a  lady,  I  have  done  that  which  I  would  refuse  to  the  broad¬ 
sword  bullies  of  the  mountains.  What  next  would  you  have  ?” 


525 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 

“  Simply,  an  unmolested  passage  hence,  beyond  youi  loidsbip  s 

^°^That  too  shall  be  cared  for.  And  thus  the  business  being 
done,  with  your  leave,  I  will  go  to  more  unmannerly  employ¬ 
ments.”  ,  .  , 

“  A  letter  for  your  lordship,”  said  an  officer,  who  at  this  moment 
entered  the  door,  and  putting  a  packet  into  the  general  s  hand, 
retired. 

Cornwallis  opened  the  letter  and  read  it.  •  -u  • 

“  Ha  !  by  my  faith,  but  this  is  a  rare  coincidence  !  This  brings 
matter  of  interest  to  you.  Miss  Lindsay.  My  officer,  Macdonald, 
who  had  Butler  in  custody,  writes  me  that,  two  days  since,  his 
prisoner  had  escaped.” 

“Escaped!”  exclaimed  Mildred,  forgetting  in  whose  presence 
she  spoke,  “  unhurt — uninjured.  Thank  Heaven  for  that  1 

Cornwallis  sat  for  a  moment  silent,  as  a  frown  grew  upon  his 
brow,  and  he  played  his  foot  against  the  floor,  abstracted  in 
thought.  “These  devils  have  allies,”  he  muttered,  “in  eveiy 
cabin  in  the  country.  We  have  treachery  and  deceit  lurking 
behind  every  bush.  We  shall  be  poisoned  in  our  pottage  by  these 
false  and  hollow  knaves.  If  it  gives  you  content,  madam,”  he 
said,  raising  his  voice,  “  that  this  Major  Butler  should  abuse  the 
kindness  or  clemency  of  his  guard  and  fly  from  us  at  the  mornent 
we  were  extending  a  boon  of  mercy  to  him  through  your  supplica¬ 
tions,  you  may  hereafter  hold  your  honorable  soldier  in  higher 
esteem  for  his  dexterity  and  cunning.” 

“  I  pray  your  lordship  to  believe,”  said  Mildred,  with  a  deep 
emotion,  which  showed  itself  in  the  rich,  full  tones  of  her  voice, 
“that  Major  Butler  knows  nothing  of  my  coming  hither.  I 
speak  not  in  his  name,  nor  make  any  pledge  for  him.  ^  If  he  has 
escaped,  it  has  only  been  from  the  common  instinct  which  teaches 
a  bird  to  fly  abroad  when  it  finds  the  door  of  his  cage  left  open 
by  the  negligence  of  his  keepers.  I  knew  it  not  nor,  alas  1  have 
I  heard  aught  of  his  captivity,  but  as  I  have  already  told  your 
lordship.  He  is  an  honorable  soldier,  rich  in  all  the  virtues  that 
may  commend  a  man  ;  I  would  your  lordship  knew  him  better 
and  in  more  peaceful  times.” 

“  Well,  it  is  but  a  peevish  and  silly  boy,”  said  Cornwallis, 


526 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  who  whines  when  his  pie  is  stolen.  The  war  has  many  reckon¬ 
ings  to  settle,  and  we  contrive  to  make  one  day’s  profit  pay 
another’s  loss.  The  account  for  the  present  is  balatjced  ;  and  so, 
Miss  Lindsay,  without  discourtesy,  I  may  leave  you,  with  a  fair 
wish  for  a  happy  and  prosperous  journey  back  to  your  father’s 
roof.  To  the  good  gentleman  himself,  I  desire  to  be  well 
remembered.  And  to  show  you  that  this  briery  path  of  war  has 
not  quite  torn  away  all  the  habiliments  of  gentleness  from  us,  I 
think  it  dutiful  to  tell  you  that,  as  I  have  become  the  confidant  of 
a  precious  love-tale,  wherein  I  can  guess  some  secret  passage  of 
mystery  is  laid'which  should  not  be  divulged,  I  promise  you  to 
keep  it  faithfully  between  ourselves.  And  when  I  reach  the  Dove 
Cote,  which,  God  willing,  under  the  banners  of  St.  George,  I  do 
propose  within  three  months  to  do,  we  may  renew  our  confidence, 
and  you  shall  have  my  advice  touching  the  management  of  this 
dainty  and  delicate  affair.  And  now,  God  speed  you  with  a  fair 
ride,  and  good  spirits  to  back  it !” 

“  I  am  much  beholden  to  your  lordship’s  generosity,”  said 
Mildred,  as  Cornwallis  rose  with  a  sportive  gallantry  and  betook 
himself  to  his  horse. 

“  Come  hither,  Mr.  Henry,”  he  said  after  he  had  mounted, 
“farewell,  my  young  cavalier.  You  will  find  a  few  files  of  men  to 
conduct  you  and  your  party  beyond  our  posts  ;  and  here,  take 
this,”  he  added,  as  now  on  horseback,  he  scrawled  off  a  few  lines 
with  a  pencil,  upon  a  leaf  of  his  pocket-book,  which  he  delivered 
to  the  youth,  “there  is  a  passport  which  shall  carry  you  safe 
against  all  intrusion  from  my  people.  Adieu  !” 

With  this  last  speech  the  commander-in-chief  put  spurs  to  his 
horse,  and  galloped  to  the  plain,  to  review  his  troops  and  com¬ 
mence  the  march  by  which  he  hoped  to  make  good  his  boast  of 
reaching  the  Dove  Cote. 

How  fortune  seconded  his  hopes  may  be  read  in  the  story  of 
the  war. 


CHAPTER  L. 


A  BRITISH  partisan. 

As  the  events  of  this  history  are  confined  to  the  duration  of  the 
Tory  Ascendency  in  South  Carolina,  it  becomes  me  to  prepare  my 
reader  for  the  conclusion  to  which,  doubtless  much  to  his  content, 
he  will  hear  that  we  are  now  hastening.  We  have  reached  a 
period  which  brings  us  to  take  notice  of  certain  important 
operations  that  were  in  progress  upon  the  frontier,  and  touching 
the  details  of  which,  to  avoid  prolixity,  I  must  refer  to  the  graver 
chronicles  of  the  times.  It  answers  my  present  purpose  merely  to 
apprise  my  reader  that  Colonel  Clarke  had  lately  assembled  his 
followers  and  marched  to  Augusta,  where  he  had  made  an  attack 
upon  Brown,  but  that  almost  at  the  moment  when  his  dexterous 
and  valiant  adversary  had  fallen  within  his  grasp,  a  timely  succor 
from  Fort  Ninety-Six,  under  the  command  of  Cruger,  had  forced 
him  to  abandon  his  ground,  and  retreat  towards  the  mountain 
districts  of  North  Carolina.  To  this,  it  is  important  to  add  that 
Ferguson  had  now  recruited  a  considerable  army  amongst  the 
native  Tories,  and  had  moved  to  the  small  frontier  village  of 
Gilbert-town,  with  a  purpose  to  intercept  Clarke,  and  tlius  place 
him  under  the  disadvantage  of  having  a  foe  both  in  front  and 
rear. 

The  midnight  seizure  of  Arthur  Butler  and  his  friends,  whilst 
returning  fi-om  Ramsay’s  funeral,  w'as  effected  by  M‘Alpine,  who 
happened  at  that  moment  to  be  hastening,  by  a  forced  march, 
with  a  detachment  of  newly-recruited  cavalry  from  Ninety-Six,  to 
strengthen  Ferguson,  and  to  aid  in  what  was  expected  to  be  the 
certain  capture  of  the  troublesome  Whig  partisan. 

As  M‘ Alpine’s  purpose  required  despatch,  he  made  but  a  short 
delay  after  sun-rise  at  Drummond’s  cabin,  and  then  pushed 
forward  with  his  prisoners  with  all  possible  expedition.  The  route 
of  his  journey  diverged,  almost  at  the  spot  of  the  capture,  from  the 

■  (37 


528 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


roads  leading  towards  Musgrove’s  Mill,  and  he  consequently  had 
but  little  chance  to  fall  in  with  parties  who  might  communicate 
to  him  the  nature  of  the  accident  which  threw  the  prisoners  into 
his  possession  ;  whilst  the  prisoners  themselves  were  sutBciently 
discreet  to  conceal  from  him  everything  that  might  afibrd  a  hint 
of  Butler’s  previous  condition. 

The  road  lay  through  a  rugged  wilderness,  and  the  distance  to 
be  travelled,  before  the  party  could  reach  Gilbert-town,  was 
something  more  than  si.vty  miles.  It  was,  accordingly,  about  the 
middle  of  the  second  day  after  leaving  Drummond’s  habitation, 
before  the  troop  arrived  at  the  term  of  their  journey,  a  period  that 
coincided  with  that  of  Cornwallis’s  breaking  ground  from  his  late 
encampment  at  the  Waxhaws,  which  we  have  seen  in  the  last  chapter. 

Ferguson  was  a  stout,  fearless,  and  bluff  soldier,  and  instigated 
by  the  most  unsparing  hatred  against  all  who  took  up  the  Whig 
cause.  He  had  been  promoted  by  Earl  Cornwallis  to  the  brevet 
rank  of  lieutenant-colonel,  a  short  time  before  the  battle  of  Camden, 
and  despatched  towards  this  wild  and  mountainous  border  to 
collect  together  and  organize  the  Tory  inhabitants  of  the  district. 
His  zeal  and  activity,  no  less  than  his  peremptory  bearing,  had 
particularly  recommended  him  to  the  duty  to  be  performed  ;  and 
he  is,  at  least,  entitled  to  the  commendation  of  having  acquitted  him¬ 
self  with  great  promptitude  and  efficiency  in  the  principal  objects 
of  his  appointment.  He  was  now  at  the  head  of  between  eleven  and 
twelve  hundred  men,  of  which  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  were 
regulars  of  the  British  line,  the  remainder  consisting  of  the  disor¬ 
derly  and  untamed  population  of  the  frontier. 

Gilbert-town  was  a  small  village,  composed  of  a  number  of 
rather  well-built  and  comfortable  log-houses.  It  Avas  situated  in 
a  mountainous  but  fert^e  district  of  North  Carolina,  about  the 
centre  of  Kutherford  country.  And  I  may  venture  to  add  (which 
I  do  upon  report  only),  that  although  its  former  name  has  faded 
fi-om  the  maps  of  the  present  day,  under  that  reprehensible  in¬ 
difference  to  ancient  associations,  and  that  pernicious  love  of  change 
which  have  obliterated  so  many  of  the  landmarks  of  our  re¬ 
volutionary  history,  yet  this  Aullage  is  still  a  prosperous  and 
pleasant  community,  known  as  the  seat  of  justice  to  the  county  to 
which  it  belongs. 


HOUSE  SHOE  K  O  B I N  S  0  N . 


529 


When  tli«  troop  having  charge  of  Butler  and  his  companions 
anived,  tliey  lialted  immediately  in  front  of  one  of  the  largest 
buildings  of  the  village,  and  in  a  short  time  the  prisoners  were 
marched  into  the  presence  of  Ferguson.  They  were  received  in 
a  common  room  of  ample  dimensions,  furnished  with  a  table 
upon  which  was  seen  a  confused  array  of  drinking  vessels,  and  a 
number  of  half-emptied  bottles  of  spirit  surrounding  a  wooden 
bucket  filled  with  water.  Immediately  against  one  of  the  posts  of 
the  door  of  the  apartment,  the  carcass  of  a  buck,  recently  shot  and 
now  stripped  of  its  skin,  hung  by  the  tendons  of  the  hinder  feet ; 
and  a  soldier  was  at  this  moment  employed  with  his  knife  in  the 
butcher-craft  necessary  to  its  preparation  for  the  spit.  Ferguson 
himself,  conspicuous  for  his  robust,  athletic,  and  weather-beaten 
exterior,  stood  by  apjjarently  directing  the  operation.  Around  the 
room  were  hung  the  hide  and  antlers  of  former  victims  of  the 
chase,  intermingled  with  various  weapons  of  war,  military  cloaks, 
cartridge-boxes,  bridles,  saddles,  and  other  furniture  denoting  the 
habitation  of  a  party  of  soldiers.  There  was  a  general  air  of 
disorder  and  untidiness  throughout  the  apartment,  which  seemed 
to  bespeak  early  and  late  revels,  and  no  great  observance  of  the 
thrift  of  even  military  housekeeping.  This  impression  was  height¬ 
ened  to  the  eye  of  the  beholder,  by  the  unchecked  liberty  with 
which  men  of  all  ranks,  privates  as  well  as  officers,  flung  themselves, 
as  their  occasions  served,  i,nto  the  room  and  made  free  with  the 
contents  of  the  flasks  that  were  scattered  over  the  table. 

The  irregular  and  ill-disciplined  host  under  Ferguson’s  command 
lay  in  and  around  the  village,  and  presented  a  scene  of  which  the 
predominating  features  bore  a  sufficient  resemblance  to  the  economy 
of  their  leader’s  own  quarters,  to  raise  but  an  unfavorable  opinion 
of  their  subordination  and  soldier-like  demeanor :  it  was  wild, 
noisy,  and  confused. 

"When  M‘Alpine  entered  the  apartment,  the  words  that  fell  from 
Ferguson  showed  that  his  mind,  at  the  moment,  was  disturbed  by 
a  double  solicitude — alternating  between  the  operations  performed 
upon  the  carcass  of  venison,  and  certain  symptoms  of  uproar  and 
disorder  that  manifested  themselves  amongst  the  militia  without. 

“  Curse  on  these  swaggering,  upland  bullies  !”  he  said,  whilst 
M'Alpine  and  the  prisoners  stood  inside  the  room,  as  yet  unnoticed, 


630 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  I  would  as  soon  undertake  to  train  as  many  wolves  from  the 
mountain,  as  bring  these  fellows  into  habits  of  discipline.  Thady, 
you  cut  that  haunch  too  low — go  deep,  man — a  long  sweep  from 
the  pommel  to  the  cantle — it  is  a  saddle  worth  riding  on  !  By  the 
infernal  gods  !  if  these  yelping  savages  do  not  learn  to  keep  quiet 
in  camp.  I’ll  make  a  school  for  them  with  my  regulars,  where  they 
shall  have  good  taste  of  the  cat !  nine  hours’  drill  and  all  the  camp 
duty  besides  !  Ha,  M‘ Alpine,  is  it  you  who  have  been  standing 
here  all  this  while  ?  I  didn’t  observe  it,  man — my  quarters  are 
like  a  bar-room,  and  have  been  full  of  comers  and  goers  all  day. 
I  thought  you  were  but  some  of  my  usual  free-and-easy  customers. 
Damn  them,  I  am  sick  of  these  gawky,  long-legged,  half-civilized 
recruits  !  but  I  shall  take  a  course  with  them  yet.  What  news,  old 
boy  ?  What  have  you  to  tell  of  the  rebels  ?  Where  is  my  pretty 
fellow,  Clarke  ?” 

“  Clarke’  is  still  '  in  the  woods,”  replied  M'Alpine.  “  It  would 
take  good  hounds  to  track  him.” 

“  And  Cruger,  I  hope,  has  nose  enough  to  follow.  So,  the  cun¬ 
ning  Indian  hunter  will  be  caught  at  last !  We  have  him  safe 
now,  M‘Alpine.  There  is  but  one  path  for  the  fox  to  come  out  of 
the  bush,  and  upon  that  path  Patrick  Ferguson  has  about  as  pretty 
a  handful  of  mischievous  imps  as  ever  lapped  blood.  The  slinking 
runaway  never  reaches  the  other  side  of  the  mountains  while  I  am 
awake.  With  Cruger  behind  him — our  line  of  posts  upon  his 
right — the  wild  mountains,  as  full  of  Cherokees  as  squirrels,  upon 
his  left — and  these  devils  of  mine  right  before  him — we  have  him 
in  a  pretty  net.  Who  have  you  here,  captain  ?” 

“  Some  stray  rebel  game,  that  I  picked  up  on  my  road,  as  I 
came  from  Ninety-Six.  This  gentleman,  I  learn,  is  Major  Butler 
of  the  Continental  army,  and  these  others,  some  of  his  party.” 

“  So,  ho,  more  rebels  !  damn  it,  man,”  exclaimed  the  command¬ 
ant,  “  why  do  you  bring  them  to  me  ?  What  can  I  do  with  them”^ — 
then  dropping  his  voice  into  a  tone  of  confidential  conference,  he 
added,  “  but  follow  the  fashion  and  hang  them  ?  I  have  got 
some  score  of  prisoners  already — and  have  been  wishing  that  they 
would  cut  some  devilish  caper,  that  I  might  have  an  excuse  for 
stiinging  them  up,  to  get  clear  of  them.  A  major  in  the  regular 
Continental  line,  sir  ?”  he  asked,  addressing  himself  to  Butler. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


531 


Butler  bowed  his  head. 

“  I  thought  the  cuffs  your  people  got  at  Camden  had  driven 
everything  like  a  day-light  soldier  out  of  the  province.  We  have 
some  skulking  bush-fighters  left — some  jack-o’-lantern  devils,  that 
live  in  the  swamps  and  feed  on  frogs  and  water-snakes — Marion 
and  Sumpter,  and  a  few  of  their  kidney  ;  but  you,  sir,  are  the 
first  regular  Continental  officer  I  have  met  with.  What  brought 
you  so  far  out  of  your  latitude  ?” 

“  I  was  on  my  way  to  join  one,”  replied  Butler,  “  that  but  now 
you  seemed  to  think  in  severe  straits.” 

“  Ha  !  to  visit  Clarke,  eh  ?  Well,  sir,  may  I  be  bold  to  ask,  do 
you  know  where  that  worshipful  gentleman  is  to  be  found  ?” 

“  I  am  free  to  answer  you,”  said  Butler,  “  that  his  position,  at 
this  moment,  is  entirely  unknown  to  me.  On  my  journey  I  heard 
the  report  that  he  had  been  constrained  to  abandon  Augusta.” 

“  Yes,  and  in  haste,  let  me  tell  you.  And  marches  in  this  direc¬ 
tion,  Major  Butler,  as  he  needs  must.  I  shall  make  his  acquaint¬ 
ance  :  and  inasmuch  as  you  went  to  seek  him,  you  may  count  it  a 
lucky  accident  that  brought  you  here — you  will  find  him  all  the 
sooner  by  it.” 

“  Doubtless,  sir.  Colonel  Clarke  will  feel  proud  to  see  you,” 
returned  Butler. 

“Well,  M'Alpine,”  said  Ferguson,  “I  have  my  hands  full  of 
business ;  for  I  certainly  have  the  wildest  crew  of  devil’s  babies 
that  ever  stole  cattle,  or  fired  a  haystack.  I  am  obliged  to  coax 
them  into  discipline  by  a  somewhat  free  use  of  this  mother’s  milk — 
(pointing  to  the  bottles) — “  to  which  I  now  and  then  add  a  gentle 
castigation  at  the  drum-head,  and,  when  that  doesn’t  serve,  a  dost 
of  powder  and  lead,  administered  at  ten  paces  from  a  few  files  of 
grenadiers.  I  have  shot  a  brace  of  them,  since  you  left  me,  only 
for  impertinence  to  their  officers  !  This  waiting  for  Clarke  plays 
the  devil  with  us.  I  must  be  moving,  and  have  some  thought  of 
crossing  the  mountains  westward,  and  burning  out  the  settlements. 
Faith !  I  would  do  it,  just  to  keep  my  lads  in  spirits,  if  I  thought 
Clarke  would  give  me  another  week.  How,  now,  Thady  ? — that 
buck  should  have  been  half  roasted  by  this  time.  We  shall  never 
have  dinner  with  your  slow  work.  Look  at  that,  M'Alpine,  there 
is  something  to  make  your  mouth  water — an  inch  and  a  half  of 


532 


I^ORSE  SHOE  EOBINSON. 


fet  on  the  veiy  ridge  of  tlic  back.  Give  over  your  prisoners  to  the 
camp  major — he  will  take  care  of  them ;  and,  hark  you,  captain,’’ 
he  added,  beckoning  his  comrade  aside,  “  if  you  choose,  as  you 
seem  to  think  well  of  this  Major  Butler,  you  may  bring  him  in  to 
dinner  presently,  with  my  compliments.  Now,  away — I  must  to 
business.” 

The  prisoners  were  conducted  to  a  separate  building,  where  they 
were  put  in  charge  of  an  officer,  who  performed  the  duties  of 
proN’Ost-marshal  over  some  twenty  or  more  Whigs  that  had  been 
captured  in  the  late  excursions  of  the  Tories,  and  brought  into 
camp  for  safe  keeping.  The  place  of  their  confinement  was  narrow 
and  uncomfortable,  and  Butler  was  soon  made  aware  that  in  the 
exchange  of  his  prison  at  Musgrove’s  mill  for  his  present  one,  he 
had  made  an  unprofitable  venture.  His  condition  with  Ferguson, 
however,  was  alleviated  by  the  constantly-exciting  hope  that  the 
,  events  which  were  immediately  in  prospect  might,  by  the  chances 
of  war,  redound  to  his  advantage. 

In  this  situation  Butler  remained  for  several  days.  For  although 
Ferguson  found  it  necessary  to  keep  in  almost  constant  motion, 
with  a  view  to  hover  about  the  supposed  direction  of  Clarke’s 
retreat,  and,  conformably  to  this  purpose,  to  advance  into  South 
Carolina,  and  again  to  fall  back  towards  his  present  position,  yet 
he  had  established  a  guard  at  Gilbert-town  which,  during  all  these 
operations,  remained  stationary  with  the  prisoners,  apparently 
waiting  some  fit  opportunity  to  march  them  off  to  Cornwallis’s 
army,  that  was  now  making  its  way  northwards.  That  opportunity 
did  not  present  itself.  The  communications  between  this  post  and 
the  commander-in-chief  were,  by  a  fatal  error,  neglected  ;  and  in  a 
short  time  from  the  date  of  the  present  events,  as  will  be  seen  in 
the  sequel,  a  web  was  woven  which  was  strong  enough  to  ensnare 
and  bind  up  the  limbs  of  the  giant  who  had,  during  the  last  five 
months,  erected  and  maintained  the  Tory  Ascendency  in  Carolina. 


CHAPTER  LI. 


MILDRED  TURNS  HER  STEPS  HOMEWARDS. 

I  HAVE  seen  a  generous  and  brave  boy  defied  to  some  enterprise  of  j 
terror, — such  as,  peradventure,  to  clamber  in  the  dark  night,  alone,/ 
up  many  a  winding  bout  of  stair-case  to  the  garret, — and  he  ha;/ 
undertaken  the  achievement,  although  sore  afraid  of  goblins,  and 
gone  forth  upon  his  adventure  with  a  lusty  step  and  with  a  bold 
tardiness,  whistling  or  singing  on  his  way — his  eyes  and  ears  all  the 
time  fearfully  open  to  all  household  sights  and  sounds,  now  mag¬ 
nified  out  of  their  natural  proportions  ;  and  when  he  had  reached 
the  furthest  term  of  his  travel,  I  have  known  him  to  turn  quickly 
about  and  come  down  three  steps  at  a  leap,  feeling  all  the  way 
as  if  some  spectre  tracked  his  flight  and  hung  upon  his  rear.  Call¬ 
ing  up  such  a  venture  to  my  mind,  I  am  enabled,  by  comparison 
with  the  speed  and  anxiety  of  the  boy,  to  show  my  reader  with 
what  emotions  Mildred,  her  mission  being  done,  now  turned  herself 
upon  her  homeward  route.  The  excitement  occasioned  by  her 
knowledge  of  the  critical  circumstances  of  Butler,  and  the  pain  she 
had  suft'ered  in  the  belief  that  upon  the  courageous  performance 
of  her  duty  depended  even  his  life,  had  nerved  her  resolution  to 
the  perilous  and  hardy  exploit  in  which  we  have  seen  her.  But 
now,  when  matters  had  taken  such  a  suddenly  auspicious  turn,  and 
she  was  assured  of  her  lover’s  safety,  not  even  the  abrupt  joy  which 
poured  in  upon  her  heart  was  sufficient  to  stifle  her  sense  of 
uneasiness  at  her  present  exposed  condition,  and  she  eagerly  pre¬ 
pared  to  betake  herself  back  to  the  Dove  Cote. 

The  scenes  around  her  had  wrought  upon  her  nerves ;  and, 
although  she  was  singularly  fortunate-  in  the  courtesy  which  she 
had  experienced  from  all  into  whose  hands  she  had  fallen,  yet  the 
rude  licentiousness  of  the  camp,  and  the  revolting  acts  of  barbarity 
which  were  ever  present  to  her  observation,  appalled  and  distressed 

533 


534 


HOESE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


her.  Besides,  she  now  saw  the  fixed  purpose  with  which  Corn¬ 
wallis  was  preparing  to  march  forward  in  his  course  of  invasion, 
and  thought  with  alarm  upon  the  probable  event  of  soon  having 
the  theatre  of  war  transferred  to  the  neighborhood  of  her  native 
woods. 

Robinson’s  advice  seconded  her  own  alacrity.  It  ivas  to  hasten, 
with  all  despatch,  in  advance  of  the  invading  army ;  and  as  this 
body  was  now  about  taking  up  its  line  of  march,  no  time  was  to  be 
lost.  Accordingly,  but  a  brief  delay  took  jilace  after  Cornwallis 
and  his  suite  had  departed  from  head-quarters,  before  our  party  set 
forward,  accompanied  by  the  small  guard  of  cavalry  that  had  been 
ordered  to  attend  them.  The  troops  were  just  wheeling  into 
column  on  the  ground  where  they  had  been  lately  reviewed,  when 
Mildred  and  her  attendants  galloped  past,  and  took  the  high  road 
leading  to  the  town  of  Charlotte,  in  North  Carolina,  towards  which 
it  was  understood  the  invaders  were  about  to  direct  their  journey. 
In  less  than  an  hour  afterwards  they  had  left  behind  them  the  line 
of  baggage  wagons  and  the  small  military  parties  of  the  vanguard, 
and  found  themselves  rapidly  hastening  towards  a  district  occupied 
by  the  friends  of  independence. 

The  sergeant  had  now  occasion  for  his  utmost  circumspection. 
In  pursuing  the  destined  route  of  the  invasion,  he  had  reason  to 
expect  an  early  encounter  with  some  of  the  many  corps  of  observa¬ 
tion,  which  the  opposite  party  were  certain  to  put  upon  the  duty 
of  reporting  the  approach  of  their  enemy.  And  so  it  fell  out ;  for, 
towards  the  middle  of  the  day,  whilst  the  travellers  were  quietly 
plying  their  journey  through  the  forest,  the  discharge  of  a  pistol 
announced  the  presence  of  a  hostile  body  of  men ;  and  almost 
instantly  afterwards  a  small  handful  of  Whig  cavalry  were  seen 
hovering  upon  the  road,  at  the  distance  of  some  three  or  four  hun¬ 
dred  paces  in  front.  Robinson  no  sooner  recognised  this  squad 
than  he  took  the  lady’s  handkerchief  and  hoisted  it  on  a  rod,  as  a  flag 
of  truce,  and,  at  the  same  moment,  directed  the  escort  to  retreat, 
apprising  them  that  their  presence  was  no  longer  necessary,  as  he 
had  now  an  opportunity  to  deliver  his  charge  into  the  hands  of 
friends.  The  British  horsemen,  accordingly,  took  their  leave  ;  and, 
in  the  next  moment.  Horse  Shoe  surrendered  to  a  patrole,  who 
announced  themselves  to  be  a  part  of  the  command  of  Colonel 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSOX. 


535 


Davie,  of  tlie  Xortli  Carolina  militia — a  gallant  partisan,  then  well 
known  to  fame,  and  whose  after  exploits  fill  up  no  inconsiderable 
page  of  American  history. 

It  does  not  enter  into  the  purpose  of  my  story  to  detain  my 
reader  with  a  minute  account  of  Mildred’s  homeward  journey ;  but 
having  now  transferred  her  to  the  protection  of  a  friendly  banner, 
it  will  suffice  to  say  that  she  arrived  the  same  evening  at  Char¬ 
lotte,  where  she  spent  the  night  in  the  midst  of  the  active,  warlike 
preparations  which  were  in  progress  to  receive  Cornwallis. 

It  was  towards  sunset  on  the  following  day,  when,  wearied  with 
the  toil  of  a  long  and  rapid  journey,  our  travellers  arrived  in  front 
of  a  retired  farm-house,  on  the  road  leading  through  the  upper  dis¬ 
tricts  of  North  Carolina.  The  cultivation  around  this  dwelling 
showed  both  good  husbandry  and  a  good  soil,  and  there  was  an 
appearance  of  comfort  and  repose  which  w^as  an  unusual  sight  in 
a  country  so  much  alarmed  and  ravaged  by  war,  as  that  over 
which  the  wayfarers  had  lately  joui-neyed.  The  house  stood  some 
short  distance  apart  from  the  road,  and  in  the  porch  was  seated  an 
elderly  man  of  a  respectable  appearance,  to  whom  a  young  girl 
was,  at  this  moment,  administering  a  draught  of  water  from  a 
small,  hooped,  wooden  vessel  which  she  held  in  her  hand. 

“  I  am  parched  with  thirst,”  said  Mildred,  “  pray  get  me  some 
of  that  waiter.” 

“  The  place  looks  so  w'ell,  ma’am,”  replied  the  sergeant,  “  that  I 
think  we  could  not  do  better  than  make  a  stop  here  for  the  night. 
Good  day,  neighbor  !  What  is  the  name  of  the  river  I  see  across 
yon  field,  and  wdiere  mought  we  be,  just  at  this  time?” 

“It  is  the  Yadkin,”  answered  the  man,  “and  this  county,  I 
believe,  is  Iredell — though  I  speak  only  by  guess,  for  I  am  but  a 
stranger  in  these  parts.” 

“  The  lady  would  be  obligated,”  said  Horse  Shoe,  “  for  a  drop 
of  that  water ;  and,  if  it  was  agreeable,  she  mought  likewise  be 
pleased  to  put  up  here  for  the  night.” 

“  The  people  of  the  Iiouse  are  kind  and  worthy,”  replied  the  old 
man,  “  and  not  likely  to  refuse  a  favor.  Mary,  take  a  cup  to  the  lady.” 

The  girl  obeyed ;  and,  coming  up  to  the  party  with  the  vessel  in 
her  hand,  she  suddenly  started  as  her  eye  fell  upon  Horse  Shoe, 
and  her  pale  and  wan  countenance  w'as  seen  bathed  in  tears. 


536 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 


“  Mr.  Robinson  !’  sbe  exclaimed,  with  a  faltering  voice  ;  “  you 
don’t  know  me  ? — me,  Mary  Musgrove.  Father,  it  is  our  friend, 
Horse  Shoe  Robinson  !”  Then  placing  the  vessel  upon  the  ground, 
she  ran  to  the  sergeant’s  side,  as  he  sat  upon  his  horse,  and  lean¬ 
ing  her  head  against  his  saddle,  she  wept  bitterly,  sobbing  out : 
“  It  is  me,  Mary  Musgrove.  John — our  John — that  you  loved — 
he  is  dead — he  is  dead  !” 

In  an  instant  Allen  Musgrove  was  at  the  gate,  where  he  greeted 
the  sergeant  with  the  affection  of  an  old  friend. 

This  recognition  of  the  miller  and  his  daughter  at  once  con¬ 
firmed  the  sergeant  in  his  determination  to  end  his  day’s  journey 
at  this  spot.  In  a  few  moments  Mildred  and  her  companions  were 
introduced  into  the  farm-house,  where  they  were  heartily  welcomed 
by  the  indwellers,  consisting  of  a  sturdy,  cheerful  tiller  of  the  soil, 
and  a  motherly  dame,  whose  brood  of  children  around  her  showed 
her  to  be  the  mistress  of  the  family. 

The  scene  that  ensued  after  the  party  were  seated  in  the  house 
was,  for  some  time,  painfully  affecting.  Poor  Mary,  overcome  by 
the  associations  called  uji  to  her  mind  at  the  sight  of  the  sergeant, 
took  a  seat  near  him,  and  silently  gazed  in  his  face,  visibly  labor¬ 
ing  under  a  strong  desire  to  express  her  feelings  in  words,  but  at 
the  same  time  stricken  mute  by  the  intensity  of  her  emotions. 

After  a  long  suspense,  which  was  broken  only  by  her  sobs,  she 
was  enabled  to  utter  a  few  disjointed  sentences,  in  which  she 
recalled  to  the  sergeant  the  friendship  that  had  existed  between 
him  and  John  Ramsay ;  and  there  was  something  peculiarly  touch¬ 
ing  in  the  melancholy  tone  with  which,  in  accordance  with  the 
habits  inculcated  by  her  religious  education,  and  most  probably  in 
the  words  of  her  father’s  frequent  admonitions,  she  attributed  the 
calamity  that  had  befallen  her  to  the  kindly  chastisement  of  heaven^ 
to  endure  which  she  devoutly,  and  with  a  sigh  that  showed  the 
bitterness  of  her  suffering,  prayed  for  patience  and  submission. 
Allen  Musgrove,  at  this  juncture,  interposed  with  some  topics  of 
consolation  suitable  to  the  complexion  of  the  maiden’s  mind,  and 
soon  succeeded  in  drying  up  her  tears,  and  restoring  her,  at  least,  to 
the  possession  of  a  tranquil  and  apparently  a  resigned  spirit. 

When  this  was  done,  he  gave  a  narrative  of  the  events  i  elating 
to  the  escape  of  Butler  and  his  subsequent  recapture  at  the  funeral 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


537 


of  John  Ramsay,  to  which,  it  may  be  imagined,  Mildred  and 
Henry  listened  with  the  most  absorbed  attention. 

This  tale  of  the  recapture  of  Butler,  so  unexpected,  and  commu¬ 
nicated  at  a  moment  when  Mildred’s  heart  beat  high  with  the  joy¬ 
ful  hopes  of  speedily  seeing  her  lover  again  in  safety,  now  struck 
upon  her  ear  with  the  alarm  that  seizes  upon  a  voyager  who,  fear¬ 
ing  no  hidden  reef  or  unknown  shoal,  hears  the  keel  of  his  ship  in 
mid  ocean  crash  against  a  solid  rock.  It  seemed  at  once  to  break 
down  the  illusion  which  she  had  cherished  with  such  fond  affec¬ 
tion.  For  the  remainder  of  the  evening  the  intercourse  of  the 
party  was  anxious  and  thoughtful,  and  betrayed  the  unhappy 
impression  which  the  intelligence  just  communicated  had  made 
upon  the  feelings  of  Mildred  and  her  brother.  Musgrove,  after  the 
travellers  had  been  refreshed  by  food,  and  invigorated  hy^he  kind 
and  hearty  hospitality  of  the  good  man  under  whose  roof  they 
were  sheltered,  proceeded  to  give  the  sergeant  a  history  of  what 
had  lately  befallen  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Ennoree.  Some 
days  after  the  escape  of  Butler,  the  miller’s  own  family  had  drawn 
upon  themselves  the  odium  of  the  ruling  authority.  His  mill  and 
his  habitation  had  been  reduced  to  ashes  by  a  party  of  Tories  who 
had  made  an  incursion  into  this  district,  with  no  other  view  than 
to  wreak  their  vengeance  against  suspected  persons.  In  the  same 
inroad,  the  family  of  David  Ramsay  had  once  more  been  assailed, 
and  all  that  was  spared  from  the  first  conflagration  Avas  destroyed  in 
the  second.  Many  other  houses  through  this  region  had  met  the 
same  fiite.  The  expedition  had  been  conducted  by  AVemyss,  Avho, 
it  is  said,  carried  in  his  pocket  a  list  of  dwellings  to  which  the 
torch  was  to  be  applied,  and  who,  on  accomplishing  each  item  of 
his  diabolical  mission — so  still  runs  the  tradition — would  note  the 
consummated  Avork  by  striking  out  the  memorandum  from  his 
tablets. 

In  this  general  ravage,  the  desolated  fiimilies  fled  like  hunted 
game  through  the  Avoods,  and  betook  themselves  Avith  a  disordered 
haste  to  the  more  friendly  provinces  northward.  Musgrove  had 
sent  his  Avife  and  younger  children,  almost  immediately  after  the 
assault  upon  him,  to  the  care  of  a  relative  in  Virginia,  Avhither 
they  had  been  conducted  some  days  previous  to  the  date  of  his 
present  meeting  Avith  Horse  Shoe  by  Christopher  Shaw  ;  Avhilst  he 

23* 


538 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


and  Mary  had  remained  behind,  for  a  short  space,  to  render  assist¬ 
ance  to  the  family  of  Ramsay,  to  whom  they  felt  themselves  affined 
almost  as  closely  as  if  the  expected  alliance  by  marriage  had  taken 
place.  When  this  duty  was  discharged,  and  Ramsay’s  family  were 
provided  with  a  place  of  refugCj  Musgrove  had  set  forward  with  his 
daughter  to  rejoin  his  wife  and  children  in  their  new  asylum.  It 
was  upon  this  journey  that  they  had  now  been  accidentally  over¬ 
taken  by  our  travellers. 

The  disclosure  of  the  motives  of  Mildred’s  expedition  to  Mary 
and  her  father,  as  may  be  supposed,  warmed  up  their  feelings  to  a 
most  affectionate  sympathy  in  her  troubles.  They  had  often  heard 
of  Butler’s  attachment  to  a  lady  in  Virginia,  and  were  aware  of 
her  name,  from  the  incidents  that  had  occurred  at  the  trial  of  But¬ 
ler,  and  ffrom  the  nature  of  Horse  Shoe’s  mission  to  Virginia. 
Mary  had  nursed  in  her  mind  a  fanciful  and  zealous  interest  in 
behalf  of  the  lady  who  was  supposed  to  have  engi-ossed  Butler’s 
affections,  from  the  earnest  devotion  which  she  had  witnessed  in 
his  demeanor,  first  at  Adair’s,  and  often  afterwards  during  his  cap¬ 
tivity.  The  effect  of  this  preconceived  favor  now  showed  itself  in 
her  behavior  to  Mildred ;  and,  in  the  gentle  play  which  it  gave  to 
her  kindly  sentiments,  a  most  happy  change  was  wrought  in  her 
present  feelings.  She  at  once  warmly  and  fervently  attached  her¬ 
self  to  Mildred,  and  won  her  way  into  our  lady’s  esteem  by  the 
most  amiable  assiduities.  In  these  offices  of  love,  the  poignancy  of 
her  own  grief  began  to  give  way  to  the  natural  sweetness  of  her 
temper,  and  they  were  observed,  in  the  same  degi-ee,  to  enUven 
Mildred’s  feelings.  Mary  hung  fondly  about  her  new  acquaintance, 
proffered  her  most  minute  attentions  of  comfort,  spoke  often  of  the 
generous  qualities  of  Butler,  and  breathed  many  a  sincere  prayer 
for  future  happiness  to  him  and  those  he  loved. 

As  Mildred  pondered  over  the  new  aspect  which  the  tidings  of 
this  evening  had  given  to  her  condition,  her  inclination  and  duty 
both  prompted  her  to  the  resolve  to  make  an  effort  to  join  Butler, 
instead  of  returning  to  the  Dove  Cote.  She  was  apprised  by  Mus¬ 
grove  that  the  prisoner  had  been  conducted  to  Ferguson,  who,  she 
was  told,  was  at  this  time  stationed  in  the  neighborhood  of  Gil¬ 
bert-town,  not  a  hundred  miles  from  her  present  position.  She 
had  ventured  far  in  his  services,  and  she  could  not,  now  that  she 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


539 


had  SO  nearly  approached  him,  consent  to  abandon  the  effort  of 
reaching  the  spot  of  his  captivity.  She  thought  with  alarm  over 
the  dangers  that  might  await  him.  in  consequence  of  his  previous 
escape,  and  this  alarm  was  increased  by  her  remembrance  of  the 
tone  of  bitter  resentment  with  which  Cornwallis,  in  a  moment  of 
unguarded  feeling,  had  referred  to  the  event  in  her  late  conference 
with  that  officer.  Above  all,  it  was  her  duty — such  was  her  view 
of  the  matter — and  whatever  might  befal,  he  was  the  lord  of  her 
heart,  and  all  dangers  and  difficulties,  now  as  heretofore,  should  be 
cast  aside  in  her  determination  to  administer  to  his  safety  or  com¬ 
fort.  Her  decision  was  made,  and  she  so  announced  it  to  her  com¬ 
panions. 

Neither  the  sergeant  nor  Henry  made  the  opposition  to  this 
resolve  that  might  have  been  expected.  To  Horse  Shoe  it  was  a 
matter  of  indifference  upon  what  service  he  might  be  ordered ;  his 
thoughts  ran  in  no  other  current  than  to  obey  the  order,  and  make 
the  most  thrifty  and  careful  provision  for  its  safe  execution.  To 
Henry  that  was  always  a  pleasant  suggestion  which  was  calculated 
to  bring  him  more  into  the  field  of  adventure.  Allen  Musgrove, 
on  this  occasion,  added  an  opinion  which  rather  favored  the  enter¬ 
prise. 

“  It  was  not  much  out  of  the  way,”  he  said,  “  to  go  as  far  as 
Burk  Court  House,  where,  at  least,  the  lady  was  likely  to  learn 
something  of  the  plans  of  Ferguson,  and  she  might  either  wait 
there,  or  take  such  direction  afterwards  as  her  friends  should 
advise.” 

Mary  begged  that  whatever  route  Mildred  thought  proper  to 
pursue,  she  might  be  allowed  to  accompany  her ;  and  this  request 
was  so  much  to  the  liking  of  Mildred,  that  she  earnestly  implored 
the  miller’s  consent  to  the  plan.  With  some  reluctance  Musgrove 
acquiesced ;  and,  feeling  thus  doubly  interested  in  the  fortunes  of 
the  party,  he  finally  determined  himself  to  attend  them  in  their 
present  enterprise. 

These  matters  being  settled,  the  wearied  travellers  parted  for  the 
night,  happy,  at  least,  in  haring  found  the  weight  of  their  personal 
afflictions  reheved  by  the  cheerfulness  with  which  the  burden  was 
divided. 


CHAPTER  Lll. 


SIGNS  OF  A  GATHERING  STORM. - MUSTER  OF  THE  BACKWOODSMEN. 

In  arms  the  huts  and  hamlets  rise, 

From  winding  glen,  from  upland  hrown. 

They  poured  each  hardy  tenant  down. — Lady  of  the  Lake. 

f 

'  In  gathering  iijj  the  ends  of  our  story,  as  we  draw  towards  a  con¬ 
clusion,  we  are  forced,  after  the  fashion  of  a  stirring  drama,  to  a 
frequent  change  of  scene.  Accordingly,  leaving  Mildred  and  her 
friends  to  pursue  their  own  way  until  we  shall  find  leisure  to  look 
after  thew  footsteps,  we  must  introduce  our  reader  to  some  new 
acquaintances,  whose  motions,  it  will  he  seen,  are  destined  greatly 
to  influence  the  interests  of  this  history. 

The  time  was  about  the  second  of  October,  when  a  considerable 
body  of  troops  were  seen  marching  through  that  district  which  is 
situated  between  the  Allegany  mountain  and  tlie  head  waters  of 
Catawba,  in  North  Carolina.  This  force  might  have  numbered 
perhaps  something  over  one  thousand  men.  Its  oi’ganization  and 
general  aspect  were  sufficiently  striking  to  entitle  it  to  a  particular 
description.  It  consisted  almost  entirely  of  cavahy ;  and  a  specta¬ 
tor  might  have  seen  in  the  rude,  weather-beaten  faces,  and  muscu¬ 
lar  forms  of  the  soldiers,  as  well  as  in  the  simplicity  of  their  equip¬ 
ments,  a  hastily-levied  band  of  mountaineers,  whose  ordinary  pur¬ 
suits  had  been  familiar  with  the  arduous  toils  of  Indian  warfare 
and  the  active  labors  of  the  chase.  They  were,  almost  without 
exception,  arrayed  in  the  hunting  shirt — a  dress  so  dear  to  the 
recollections  of  the  revolution,  and  which,  it  is  much  to  be  regret¬ 
ted,  the  foppery  of  modern  times  has  been  allowed  to  displace. 
Their  weapons  in  but  few  instances  were  other  than  the  long  rifle 
and  its  accompanying  hunting-knife. 

It  was  to  be  observed  that  this  little  army  consisted  of  various 
corps,  which  were  in  general  designated  either  by  the  color  of  the 
hunting-shirt,  or  by  that  of  the  fringe  with  which  this  cheap  and 

540 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


541 


simple  uniform  was  somewhat  ostentatiously  garnished.  Some  few 
were  clad  in  the  plain,  homespun  working-dress  of  the  time  ;  and, 
here  and  there,  an  officer  might  be  recognised  iu  the  blue  and 
buft'  cloth  of  the  regular  Continental  army.  The  buck-tail,  also, 
was  an  almost  indispensable  ornament  of  the  cap,  or  usual  round 
hat  of  the  soldiers ;  and  where  this  was  wanting,  its  place  was  not 
unfrequently  supplied  by  sprigs  of  green  pine  or  holly,  or  other 
specimens  of  the  common  foliage  of  the  country. 

The  men  were  mounted  on  lean,  shaggy,  and  travel-worn  horses 
of  every  variety  of  size,  shape,  and  color  ;  and  their  baggage  con¬ 
sisted  of  nothing  more  cumbersome  than  a  light  wallet  attached  to 
the  rear  of  their  saddles,  or  of  a  meagrely  supplied  pair  of  saddle¬ 
bags.  The  small  party  on  foot  were  in  no  wise  to  be  distinguished 
from  the  mounted  men,  except  in  the  absence  of  horses,  and  in  the 
mode  of  carrying  their  baggage,  which  was  contained  in  knapsacks 
of  deerskin  strapped  to  their  shoulders.  These  moved  over  the 
ground  with,  perhaps,  even  more  facility  than  the  cavalry,  and 
ajipeared  in  no  degree  to  regret  the  toil  of  the  march,  which  was 
so  far  the  lighter  to  them,  as  they  were  exempt  from  the  solicitude 
which  their  companions  suffered  of  providing  forage  for  their 
beasts. 

The  officers  in  command  of  this  party  were  young  men,  in  whose 
general  demeanor  and  bearing  was  to  be  seen  that  bold,  enter¬ 
prising,  and  hardy  character,  which'  at  that  period,  even  more  than 
at  present,  distinguished  the  frontier  population.  The  frequent 
expeditious  against  the  savages,  which  the  times  had  rendered 
familiar  to  them,  as  well  as  the  service  of  the  common  war,  in 
which  they  had  all  partaken,  had  impressed  upon  their  exteriors 
the  rugged  lines  of  thoughtful  soldiership. 

The  troops  now  associated,  consisted  of  distinct  bodies  of  volun¬ 
teers,  who  had  each  assembled  under  their  own  leaders,  without 
the  recjuisition  of  the  government,  entirely  independent  of  each 
other,  and  more  resembling  the  promiscuous  meeting  of  hunters 
than  a  regularly-organized  military  corps. 

They  had  convened,  about  a  week  before  the  period  at  which  I 
have  presented  them  to  my  reader,  at  Wattauga,  on  the  border  of 
Tennessee,  in  pui-suance  of  an  invitation  from  Shelby,  who  was 
now  one  of  the  principal  officers  in  command.  He  had  himself 


542 


nOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


embodied  a  force  of  between  two  and  three  hundred  men,  in  his 
own  district  of  the  mountains  ;  and  Colonel  Campbell,  now  also 
present,  had  repaired  to  the  rendezvous  with  four  hundred  soldiers 
from  the  adjoining  county  in  Virginia.  These  two  had  soon  after¬ 
wards  formed  a  junction  with  Colonels  M‘Dowell  and  Sevier,  of 
North  Carolina,  who  had  thus  augmented  the  joint  force  to  the 
number  which  I  have  already  mentioned  as  constituting  the  whole 
array.  They  had  marched  slowly  and  wearily  from  the  mountains 
into  the  district  of  country  which  lay  between  the  forks  of  Catawba, 
somewhere  near  to  the  present  village  of  Moi’gantown — and  might 
now  be  said  to  be  rather  hovering  in  the  neighborhood  of  Ferguson, 
then  advancing  directly  towards  him.  The  force  of  the  British 
partisan  was,  as  yet,  too  formidable  for  the  attack  of  these  allies, 
and  he  was  still  in  a  position  to  make  his  way  in  safety  to  the  main 
army  under  Cornwallis — at  this  time  stationed  at  Charlotte,  some 
seventy  or  eighty  miles  distant.  It  was  both  to  gain  increase  of 
force,  from  certain  auxiliaries  who  were  yet  expected  to  join  them, 
as  also,  without  exciting  suspicion  of  their  purpose,  to  attain  a  po¬ 
sition  from  which  Ferguson  might  more  certainly  be  cut  off 
from  Cornwallis,  that  the  mountain  leaders  lingered  with  such  wily 
delay  upon  their  march. 

Ferguson  ivas  all  intent  upon  Clarke — little  suspecting  the 
power  which  could  summon  up,  with  such  incredible  alacrity,  an 
army  from  the  woods  fit  to  dispute  his  passage  through  any  path 
of  the  country ;  and,  profiting  by  this  confidence  of  the  enemy, 
Shelby  and  his  associates  were  preparing,  by  secret  movements,  to 
put  themselves  in  readiness  to  spring  upon  their  quarry  at  the  most 
auspicious  moment.  In  accordance  with  this  plan.  Colonel  Wil¬ 
liams,  who  yet  preserved  his  encampment  on  the  Fair  Foi-est,  was 
on  the  alert  to  act  against  the  British  leader,  who  still  marched 
further  south — at  every  step  lengthening  the  distance  between 
himself  and  his  commander-in-chief,  and  so  far  favoring  the  views 
of  his  enemy.  Shelby  and  his  comrades  only  tarried  until  their 
numbers  should  be  complete,  designing  as  speedily  as  possible  after 
that  to  form  a  junction  with  AVilliams,  and  at  once  enter  upon  an 
open  and  hot  pursuit  of  their  adversary. 

Their  uncertainty  in  regard  to  the  present  condition  of  Clarke 
added  greatly  to  their  desire  to  strike,  as  early  as  possible,  their 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


543 


meditated  blow.  This  officer  had,  a  few  weeks  before,  commenced 
his  retreat  from  Augusta  through  Ninety-Six,  Avith  some  five  hun¬ 
dred  men,  closely  followed  by  Brown  and  Cruger,  and  threatened 
by  the  Indian  tribes  who  inhabited  the  wilderness  through  which 
he  journeyed.  The  perils  and  hardships  of  this  retreat  arose  not 
only  from  the  necessity  Clarke  was  under  to  plunge  into  the  inhos¬ 
pitable  and  almost  unexplored  wilderness  of  the  Allegany,  by  a 
path  which  would  effectually  baffle  his  pursuers  as  well  as*  escape 
the  toils  of  Ferguson  ;  but  they  were  painfully  enhanced  by  the 
incumbrance  of  a  troop  of  Avomen  and  children,  Avho,  having  already 
felt  the  vengeance  of  the  savages,  and  fearing  its  further  cruelties, 
and  the  scarcely  less  ruthless  hatred  of  the  Tories,  preferred  to  tempt 
the  rigors  of  the  mountain  rather  than  I'emain  in  their  own  dAvell- 
ings.  It  is  said  that  these  terrified  and  helpless  fugitives  amounted 
to  somewhat  above  three  hundred  individuals. 

There  were  no  incidents  of  the  Avar  of  independence  that  more 
strikingly  illustrated  the  heroism  which  gi'appled  Avith  the  difficul¬ 
ties  of  that  struggle  at  its  gloomiest  moment,  than  the  patient  and 
persevering  gallantry  of  these  brave  wanderers  and  their  confede¬ 
rates,  Avhom  we  have  seen  lately  assembled  in  arms.  History  has 
not  yet  conferred  upon  Clarke  and  his  companions  their  merited 
tribute  of  renown.  Some  future  chronicler  will  find  in  their  ex¬ 
ploits  a  captivating  theme  for  Ids  pen,  Avhen  he  tells  the  tale  of 
their  constancy,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  nation’s  despair ;  until  for¬ 
tune,  at  length  successfully  wooed,  reAvarded  their  vigilance,  bravery, 
and  skill,  by  enabling  them  to  subdue  and  destroy  the  Tory  As¬ 
cendency  in  the  south. 

The  enemy,  SAvarming  in  all  the  strong  places,  elate  Avith  recent 
victory,  well  provided  Avith  the  muniments  of  war,  high  in  hope 
and  proud  of  heart,  hunted  these  scattered,  destitute,  and  slender 
bands,  Avith  a  keenness  of  scent,  SAviftness  of  foot,  and  exasperation 
of  temper,  that  can  only  be  compared  to  the  avidity  of  the  blood¬ 
hound.  This  eagerness  of  pursuit  Avas,  for  the  present,  directed 
against  Clarke ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  fortunate  circumstances 
that  belong  to  the  events  I  have  been  relating,  that  this  purpose 
of  waylaying  our  gallant  partisan  so  completely  absorbed  the  atten¬ 
tion  of  Ferguson,  as  to  cause  him  to  neglect  the  most  ordinary  pre¬ 
cautions  for  securing  himself  against  the  reverses  of  the  war. 


544 


HOR^E  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


In  tliis  state  of  things,  Shelby  and  his  compatriots  waited  for 
the  moment  when  they  might  direct  their  march  immediately  to 
the  attack  of  the  British  soldier — their  anxiet}’’  stimulated  to  a 
painful  acuteness  by  the  apprehension  that  Clarke  might  be  ovei- 
powered  by  his  enemies,  or  that  Cornwallis  might  receive  informa¬ 
tion  of  the  gathering  bands,  and  make  a  timely  movement  to  rein¬ 
force  or  protect  his  outpost.  It  was  in  this  moment  of  doubt  and 
concern  that  we  have  chosen  to  present  them  in  the  course  of 
our  narrative. 

The  troops  had  halted  about  the  middle  of  the  day,  to  take  some 
refreshment.  The  ground  they  had  chosen  for  this  purpose  was  a 
narrow  valley  or  glen,  encompassed  by  steep  hills,  between  which 
a  transparent  rivulet  wound  its  way  over  a  rough,  stony  bed. 
The  margin  of  the  stream  was  clothed  with  grass  of  the  liveliest 
verdure,  and  a  natural  grove  of  huge  forest  trees  covered  the  whole 
level  space  of  the  valley.  The  season  was  the  most  pleasant  of  the 
year,  being  at  that  period  when,  in  the  southern  highlands,  the 
hoar  frost  is  first  seen  to  sparkle  on  the  spray  at  early  dawn.  The 
noon-tide  sun,  though  not  oppressively  warm,  was  still  sufficiently 
fervid  to  render  the  shade  of  the  grove,  and  the  cool  mountain 
brook  in  the  deep  ravine,  no  unpleasant  objects  to  wearied  travel¬ 
lers.  Here  the  whole  of  our  little  army  were  scattered  through  the 
wood ;  some  intent  upon  refreshing  their  steeds  in  the  running 
water,  many  seated  beneath  the  trees  discussing  their  own  slender 
means,  and  not  a  few  carelessly  and  idly  loitering  about  the  grounds 
in  the  enjoyment  of  the  mere  exemption  from  the  constraint  of  dis¬ 
cipline.  The  march  of  the  troops  on  this  day  had  not  exceeded 
ten  or  twelve  miles ; — they  might  have  been  said  to  creep  through 
the  woods.  Still,  however,  they  had  been  in  motion  ever  since  the 
dawn  of  day  ;  and  as  they  measured  the  ground  Avith  their  slow 
but  ceaseless  footfall,  there  was  a  silent  disquiet  and  an  eagerness 
of  expectation,  that  were  scarcely  less  fatiguing  than  more  rapid 
and  laborious  operations. 

“  Cleveland  will  certainly  join  us  ?”  said  Shelby,  as,  in  the 
vacancy  of  the  hour,  he  had  fallen  into  company  with  his  brother 
ofificers,  who  were  now  assembled  on  the  margin  of  the  brook.  “  It 
is  time  he  were  here.  I  am  sick  of  this  slow  work.  If  we  do  not 
make  our  leap  within  the  next  two  or  three  days,  the  game  is  lost.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ItOBINSON. 


545 


“  Keep  your  temper,  Isaac,”  replied  Campbell,  who,  beiug  some¬ 
what  older  than  his  comrade,  assumed  the  freedom  indicated  in 
this  reply,  and  now  laughed  as  he  admonished  the  fretful  soldier. 
“  Keep  your  temper !  Williams  is  below,  and  on  the  look-out ; 
and  most  usefully  employed  in  enticing  Ferguson  as  far  out  of 
reach  of  my  lord  Buzzard,  there  at  Charlotte,  as  we  could  wish 
him.  Ben  Cleveland  will  be  with  us  all  in  good  time :  take  my 
word  for  that.  You  forget  that  he  had  to  muster  his  lads  from 
Wilkes  and  Surry  both.” 

“  And  Brandon  and  Lacy  are  yet  to  join  us,”  said  M‘Dowell. 

“  Damn  it,  they  should  be  here,  man  !”  interrupted  Shelby  again  ; 
“  I  hate  this  creaking  of  my  boots  upon  the  soft  grass,  as  if  we  had 
come  to  fish  foi‘  gudgeons.  I  am  for  greasing  our  horses’  heels 
and  putting  them  to  service.” 

“  You  were  always  a  hot-headed  devil,”  interrupted  Campbell, 
again,  “  and  have  Avasted  more  shoe-leather  than  discretion  in  this 
world,  by  at  least  ten  to  one.  You  are  huntsman  enough  to  know, 
Isaac,  that  it  is  sometimes  well  to  steal  round  the  game  to  get 
the  wind  of  them.  Your  headlong  haste  would  only  do  us 
harm.” 

“  You  !”  rejoined  Shelby,  with  a  laugh,  excited  by  Campbell’s 
face  of  good  hunior.  “Verily,  you  are  a  pattern  of  sobriety  and 
moderation  yourself,  to  be  preaching  caution  to  us  youngsters  !  All 
wisdom,  forecast,  and  discretion,  I  suppose,  have  taken  up  their 
quarters  in  your  wiry-haired  noddle  !  How  in  the  devil  it  came 
to  pass,  William,  that  yonder  green  and  gi-ey  shirts  should  have 
trusted  themselves  with  such  a  piece  of  prudence  at  their  head,  is 
more  than  I  can  guess.” 

At  this  moment  a  soldier  pressed  forward  into  the  circle  of 
officers ; 

“  A  letter  for  Colonel  Shelby,”  he  said,  “  brought  by  a  trooper 
from  Cleveland.” 

“  All,  ha !  This  looks  well,”  exclaimed  Shelby,  as  he  ran  his 
eyes  over  the  lines.  “  Cleveland  is  but  ten  miles  behind,  and  desires 
us  to  Avait  his  coming.” 

“  AVith  hoAv  many  men  ?”  asked  one  of  the  party. 

“  The  rogue  has  forgotten  to  tell.  I’ll  warrant,  with  all  he  could 
find.” 


"V 


546 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“  With  a  good  party,  no  doubt,”  interrupted  Sevier.  “  I  know 
the  Wbigs  of  Wilkes  and  Surry  will  not  be  backward.” 

“  From  this  despatch,  gentlemen,  I  suppose  we  shall  rest  here  for 
the  night — what  say  you  ?”  was  the  interrogatory  proposed  to  the 
group  by  Shelby. 

The  proposition  w’as  agreed  to,  and  the  several  officers  repaired 
to  their  commands.  As  soon  as  this  order  was  communicated  to 
the  troops,  everything  assumed  the  bustle  incident  to  the  prepara¬ 
tion  of  a  temporary  camp.  Fires  were  kindled,  the  horses  tethered, 
guards  detailed,  and  shelters  erected  of  green  wood  cut  from  the 
surrounding  forest.  In  addition  to  this,  a  few  cattle  had  been 
slaughtered  from  a  small  herd  that  had  been  driven  in  the  rear  of 
the  march ;  and  long  before  night  came  on,  the  scene  presented  a 
tolerably  comfortable  bivouac  of  light-hearted,  laughing  woodsmen, 
whose  familiar  habits  at  home  had  seasoned  them  to  this  forest- 
life,  and  gave  to  their  present  enterprise  something  of  the  zest  of  a 
pastime. 

In  the  first  intervals  of  leisure,  parties  were  seen  setting  out  into 
the  neighboring  hills  in  pursuit  of  game ;  and  when  the  hour  of 
the  evening  meal  arrived,  good  store  of  fat  bucks  and  wild  turkeys 
were  not  wanting  to  flavor  a  repast,  to  which  a  sauce  better  than 
the  wit  of  man  ever  invented,  was  brought  by  every  lusty  feeder 
of  the  camp. 

At  sun-down,  a  long  line  of  woodland  cavalry,  in  all  respects 
armed  and  equipped  in  the  same  fashion  with  those  who  already 
occupied  the  valley,  were  seen  winding  down  the  rugged  road  which 
led  from  the  high  gi’ounds  to  the  camp.  At  the  first  intimation 
of  the  approach  of  this  body,  the  troops  below  were  ordered  out  on 
parade,  and  the  new-comers  were  received  with  all  the  military 
demonstrations  of  respect  and  joy  usual  at  the  meeting  of  friendly 
bodies  of  soldiers.  Some  dozen  horns  of  the  harshest  tones,  and 
with  the  most  ear-piercing  discord,  kept  up  an  incessant  braying, 
until  the  alarmed  echoes  were  startled  from  a  thousand  points 
amongst  the  hills.  In  spite  of  the  commands  of  officers,  straggling 
shots  of  salutation  were  fired,  and  loud  greetings  of  individual 
acquaintances  were  exchanged  from  either  ranks,  as  the  approaching 
body  filed  across  the  whole  front  of  the  drawn-up  line.  When  this 
ceremony  was  over,  Colonel  Cleveland  rode  up  to  the  little  group 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


547 


of  officers  wlio  awaited  his  report,  and,  after  a  long  and  hearty 
welcome,  announced  Ids  command  to  consist  of  three  hundred  and 
fifty  stout  hearts,  ready  and  tried  friends  to  the  issues  of  the  war. 

The  force  of  the  confederates,  by  this  accession,  now  amounted 
to  about  fourteen  hundred  men.  It  became  necessary,  at  this  junc¬ 
ture,  to  give  to  these  separate  bands  a  more  compact  character, 
and  with  that  view  it  was  indispensable  that  the  command  of  the 
whole  should  be  committed  to  one  of  the  present  leaders.  In  the 
difficulty  and  delicacy  of  selecting  an  individual  for  this  duty,  the 
common  opinion  inclined  to  the  propriety  of  submitting  the  ap¬ 
pointment  to  General  Gates.  A  messenger  was  accordingly 
despatched  on  that  night,  to  repair  to  the  American  head-quarters 
at  Hillsborough,  to  present  this  subject  to  the  attention  of  the 
General.  In  the  meantime,  Shelby,  whose  claim,  perhaps,  to  the 
honor  of  leading  the  expedition  was  most  worthy  of  consideration, 
with  that  patriotic  and  noble  postponement  of  self  which  occurs  so 
frequently  in  the  history  of  the  men  of  the  Revolution,  himself  sug¬ 
gested  the  expediency  of  conferring  the  command  upon  his  friend 
Campbell,  until  the  pleasure  of  Gates  should  be  known.  The  sug¬ 
gestion  was  heartily  adopted,  and  Colonel  William  Campbell  was  ac¬ 
cordingly,  from  this  moment,  the  chosen  leader  of  our  gallant  and 
eSicient  little  army. 

On  the  following  day  the  troops  were  in  motion  at  an  early 
hour — designing  to  advance,  with  a  steady  pace,  towards  Gilbert- 
town,  and  thence  on  the  track  of  the  enemy  across  the  border  into 
South  Carolina.  In  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  the  vanguard  were 
met  by  a  small  body  of  horsemen,  whose  travel-worn  plight  and 
haggard  aspects  showed  that  they  had  lately  been  engaged  in 
severe  service.  They  were  now  in  quest  of  the  very  party  whom 
they  had  thus  fortunately  encountered  upon  the  march  ;  and  it 
was  with  a  lively  demonstration  of  joy  that  they  now  rode  with 
the  ofiScer  of  the  guard  into  the  presence  of  Campbell  and  his  staff. 
Their  report  announced  them  to  be  Major  Chandler  and  Captain 
Johnson,  of  Clarke’s  party,  who,  with  thirty  follow'ers,  had  been 
despatched  from  the  western  side  of  the  Allegany,  to  announce  to 
the  confederated  troops  the  complete  success  of  that  officer’s 
endeavor  to  reach  the  settlements  on  the  Nolachuckie  and  Wat- 
tauga  rivers.  Their  tidings  were  immediately  communicated  to 


548 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


the  army ;  and  the  deep  and  earnest  interest  which  oflScers  and  men 
took  in  this  agreeable  intelligence,  was  evinced  in  a  spontaneous  accla¬ 
mation  and  cheering  from  one  extremity  of  the  column  to  the  other. 
The  messengers  proceeded  to  narrate  the  particulars  of  their  late 
hazardous  expedition,  and  fully  confirmed  the  most  painful  antici¬ 
pations  which  the  listeners  had  previously  entertained  of  the  difli- 
culties,  toils,  and  sufferings  incident  to  the  enterprise.  Clarke’s 
soldiers,  they  further  reported,  were  too  much  disabled  to  he  in  con¬ 
dition  immediately  to  recross  the  mountain  and  unite  in  the  present 
movement  against  Ferguson  ;  hut  that,  as  soon  as  they  should  find 
themselves  recruited  by  needful  rest,  they  would  lose  no  time  in 
repairing  to  the  scene  of  action. 

Towards  sunset  of  the  succeeding  day,  our  sturdy  adventurers 
entered  Gilbert-town.  This  post  had  been  abandoned  by  Ferguson, 
and  was  now  in  the  occupation  of  the  two  staunch  Whig  leaders, 
Brandon  and  Lacy,  at  the  head  of  about  three  hundred  men,  who 
had  repaired  thither  from  the  adjacent  mountains  of  Rutherford,  to 
await  the  airival  of  Campbell  and  his  friends.  It  was  manifest 
that  affairs  were  rapidly  tending  towards  a  crisis.  Ferguson  had 
hitherto  appeared  indifferent  to  the  dangers  that  threatened  him, 
and  his  movements  indicated  either  a  fatal  contempt  for  his  adver¬ 
sary,  or  an  ignorance  of  the  extent  of  his  embarrassments — each 
equally  discreditable  to  the  high  renown  which  has  been  attributed 
to  him  for  careful  and  bold  soldiership. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 


MILDRED  MEETS  AN  AGREEABLE  ADVENTURE. 

We  left  Mildred  securely  lodged  with  her  new  and  kind-hearted 
friends,  under  the  hospitable  roof  of  the  farmer,  hard  by  the 
Yadkin.  The  reader  has,  doubtless,  found  reason  in  the  course  of 
this  narrative  to  marvel  much  that  a  lady  so  delicately  nurtured 
should,  with  so  stout  a  spirit  and  with  such  singular  devotion, 
have  tempted  so  many  dangers,  and  exposed  herself  to  such 
unwonted  hardships,  for  the  sake  of  the  man  she  loved.  Perhaps, 
I  might  be  able  to  clear  up  this  matter,  by  referring  to  the  extra¬ 
ordinary  conjuncture  of  circumstances  that  surrounded  her.  It 
was  no  secret  that  she  fervently,  and  with  her  whole  heart, — yea 
even  with  a  fanatical  worship, — loved  the  man  she  sought.  Her 
affection  had  been  nursed  in  solitude,  and,  like  a  central  fire, 
glowed  with  a  fervid  heat,  unobserved  at  first,  silent  and  steady  ; 
and  by  degrees  her  enthusiasm  spread  its  coloring  over  the  j^as- 
sion,  and  raised  it  into  a  fanciful  but  solemn  self-dedication.  This 
warmth  of  feeling  might  still  have  been  witnessed  only  within  her 
family  precinct,  had  it  not  been  that,  at  a  most  critical  moment, 
when  her  father’s  absence  from  the  Dove  Cote  left  her  without  other 
resource  than  her  own  unaided  counsel,  she  was  made  acquainted 
that  her  lover’s  life  was  in  imminent  peril,  and  that  a  word  from 
her  might  perhaps  avert  his  doom.  We  have  seen  with  what 
anxious  alacrity  she  set  forth  in  that  emergency  upon  her  pilgri¬ 
mage  of  duty ;  and  how,  as  she  became  familiar  with  hardship  and 
danger,  her  constancy  and  resolution  still  took  a  higher  tone, 
growing  more  vigorous  even  with  the  impediments  that  lay  across 
her  path.  This  may  seem  strange  to  our  peace-bred  dames, — and 
little  congruous  with  that  feminine  reserve  and  shrinkingness  which 
we  are  wont  to  praise  :  but  war,  distress,  and  disaster  work  miracles 
in  the  female  bosom,  and  render  that  virtuous  and  seemly,  which 


650 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


ease  and  safety  might  repel.  Nature  is  a  -wise  and  cunning  char¬ 
mer,  and,  in  affliction,  makes  that  forwardness  not  unlovely,  which 
in  tranquil  and  happy  times  she  would  visit  with  her  censure.  If 
these  considerations  do  not  sufflce  to  explain  the  present  movements 
of  my  heroine,  I  must  beg  my  reader  to  have  patience  to  the  end, 
when,  peradventure,  he  will  find  a  still  better  reason. 

When  morning  came,  Mildred  was  up  with  the  first  blush  of 
light.  Her  thoughts  had  d  welt  with  a  busy  restlessness  upon  the 
late  intelligence,  and  she  had  slept  only  in  short  and  disturbed 
intervals.  She  was  impatient  to  be  again  upon  the  road. 

Accoi’dingly,  as  soon  as  the  prejiarations  for  their  journey  could 
be  made,  our  party,  now  increased  by  the  addition  of  Musgrove 
and  his  daughter,  set  forward  on  their  travel  towards  Burk  Court 
House. 

This  journey  was  protracted  through  several  days.  The  disturbed 
state  of  the  country,  produced  by  the  active  hostilities  which  M'ere 
now  renewed,  made  it  prudent  for  our  wayfarers  frequently  to  halt 
amongst  the  friendly  inhabitants  of  the  region  through  which 
they  travelled,  in  order  to  obtain  information,  or  wait  for  the 
passage  of  troops  whose  presence  might  have  caused  embarrass¬ 
ment. 

The  considerate  kindness  of  Allen  Musgrove,  and  the  unwearied 
attentions  of  Mary,  who,  softened  by  her  own  griefs,  evinced  a  more 
touching  sympathy  for  the  suff’erings  of  Mildred,  every  day  increased 
the  friendship  which  their  present  companionship  had  engendered, 
and  greatly  beguiled  the  road  of  its  tediousness  and  dis¬ 
comfort. 

The  journey,  however,  was  not  without  its  difficulties,  nor  alto¬ 
gether  destitute  of  occurrences  of  interest  to  this  history.  The 
upper  districts  of  North  Carolina  present  to  the  eye  a  very  beau¬ 
tiful  country,  diversified  by  mountain  and  valley,  and  gifted  in 
general  with  a  rich  soil.  Considerable  portions  of  this  region  were 
consequently  occupied  and  put  into  cultivation  at  an  early  period 
of  the  history  of  the  province ;  and,  at  the  era  of  the  revolution, 
were  noted  as  the  most  desirable  positions  for  the  support  of  the 
southern  armies.  This  circumstance  had  drawn  the  war  to  that 
quarter,  and  had  induced  a  frequent  struggle  to  retain  a -footing 
there,  by  each  party  who  came  into  possession  of  it.  Such  a  state 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


551 


of  things  had  now,  as  we  have  before  remarked,  embarrassed  the 
progress  of  our  friends,  and  had  even  compelled  them  to  diverge 
largely  from  the  direct  route  of  their  journey. 

It  happened,  a  few  days  after  leaving  the  Yadkin,  that  the  hour 
of  sunset  found  our  little  troop  pursuing  a  road  through  the  deep 
and  gloomy  forest,  which,  for  several  miles  past,  had  been  unre¬ 
lieved  by  any  appearance  of  human  habitation.  Neither  Horse 
Shoe  nor  Allen  Musgrove  possessed  any  acquaintance  with  the 
region,  beyond  the  knowledge  that  they  were  upon  what  was 
called  the  upper  or  mountain  road  that  extended  from  Virginia 
entirely  through  this  section  of  North  Carolina;  and  that  they 
could  not  be  much  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  north  of  Burk 
Court  House.  Where  they  should  rest  during  the  night  that  was 
now  at  hand,  was  a  matter  that  depended  entirely  upon  chance  ; 
and  stimulated  by  the  hope  of  encountering  some  woodland  cabin, 
they  persevered  in  riding  forward,  even  uhen  the  fading  twilight 
had  so  obscured  their  path  as  to  make  it  a  matter  of  some  cir¬ 
cumspection  to  pick  their  way.  Thus  the  night  stole  upon  them 
almost  unawares. 

There  is  nothing  so  melancholy  as  the  deep  and  lonely  forest  at 
night ;  and  why  it  should  be  so  I  will  not  stop  to  inquire,  but 
that  melancholy,  it  seems  to  me,  is  enhanced  by  the  chilliness  of 
the  autumnal  evening.  The  imagination  peoples  the  impenetrable 
depths  of  the  wood  with  spectres,  which  the  gibbering  and  shrill 
reptiles  that  inhabit  these  recesses  seem  to  invest  with  a  voice ; 
the  earth  beneath  the  feet,  carpeted  with  “  the  raven  down  of  dark¬ 
ness,”  has  an  indefinite  surface  that  causes  the  traveller  to  think  of 
pitfalls  and  sudden  banks,  and  fearful  quagmires ;  and  the  grey 
light  of  the  glow-worm,  or  the  cold  gleam  of  the  rotten  timber, 
shine  up  through  the  gloom,  like  some  witch-taper  from  a  haunted 
ground.  Then,  high  above  the  head,  the  sombre  forms  of  the 
trees  nod  in  the  night-wind,  and  the  stars, — ineftectual  to  guide  us 
on  our  way — are  seen  only  in  short  and  rapid  glimpses  through 
the  foliage  ;  all  these  things  affect  the  mind  with  sadness,  but 
the  chattering  of  the  teeth  and  the  cold  creep  of  the  blood,  ren¬ 
dered  sluggish  by  a  frosty  atmosphere,  make  it  still  more  sad. 

Mildred  and  Mary  Musgrove  experienced  a  full  share  of  these 
imaginings,  as  they  now  rode  in  the  dark,  side  by  side  ;  and,  per- 


552 


nORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


adventure,  an  occasional  expression  of  impatience  might  have  been 
heard,  in  wliispers,  between  them.  By  deg’rees  this  feeling  extended 
to  Henry,  and,  in  due  course  of  time,  seemed  also  to  have  reached 
the  sergeant  and  the  miller  ;  for  these  two,  as  if  suddenly  struck 
with  the  necessity  of  making  some  provision  for  the  night,  now 
came  to  a  halt,  with  a  view  to  inquire  into  the  comfort  of  the 
Aveaker  members  of  the  troop,  and  to  deliberate  on  what  was  best 
to  be  done.  To  make  a  fire,  erect  a  tent,  and  resort  to  the  con¬ 
tents  of  their  havresacks  for  supper,  were  the  only  expedients 
Avhich  their  situation  afforded  ;  and  as  these  arrangements  Avere  but 
the  customary  incidents  of  travel,  in  the  times  to  which  we  refer, 
they  Avere  noAv  resolved  upon  with  but  little  sense  of  inconvenience 
or  hardship.  It  Avas  proper,  however,  that  the  party  should  encamp 
in  some  position  where  they  might  have  water,  and,  with  that 
object,  they  continued  to  move  forward  until  they  should  find 
themselves  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  running  stream — an  event 
that,  from  the  nature  of  the  country,  was  soon  likely  to  occur. 

“  There  can  be  no  moon  to-night,”  said  the  sergeant,  as  they 
rode  along  in  quest  of  their  lodging-place,  “  yet  yonder  light 
would  look  as  if  she  was  rising.  Ho,  it  can’t  be,  for  it  is  west¬ 
ward,  as  I  judge,  Allen.” 

“  It  is  westward,”  replied  Musgrove,  looking  toAvards  a  faint  light 
which  brought  the  profile  of  the  tree-tops  into  relief  against  the 
horizon.  “  There  must  be  fire  in  the  woods.” 

The  party  rode  on,  all  eyes  being  directed  to  the  phenomenon 
pointed  out  by  Horse  Shoe.  The  light  greiv  broader,  and  fiung  a 
lurid  beam  towards  the  zenith ;  and,  as  the  travellers  still  came 
nearer,  the  radiance  increased,  and  illuminated  the  summit  of  a 
hill,  which,  it  Avas  now  apparent,  lay  between  them  and  the  light. 

“  We  must  rest  here  for  a  while,”  said  the  sergeant,  reining  up 
his  horse  in  a  dark  and  narrow  ravine;  “the  fire  is  just  across  this 
hill  in  front.  It  Avould  be  Avise  to  reconnoitre  a  little ;  there  may 
be  travellers  camping  on  the  t’other  side,  or  troops  for  aught  Ave 
know ;  or  it  may  be  an  old  fire  left  by  the  last  persons  Avho  passed. 
You,  Allen  Musgrove,  stay  here  with  the  Avomen,  and  I  will  ride 
forward  to  look  into  the  matter.” 

Henry  accompanied  the  sergeant,  and  they  both  galloped  up  the 
bill.  When  thov  came  to  the  ton,  a  rich  and  strange  prospect 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


553 


broke  upon  their  siglit.  Some  three  or  four  hundred  yards  in 
advance,  at  the  foot  of  the  long  slope  of  the  hill,  a  huge  volume 
of  flame  was  discovered  enveloping  the  entire  trunk  of  a  tall  pine, 
and  blazing  forth  with  sudden  flashes  amongst  the  withered  foliage. 
Tlie  radiance  cast  around  from  this  gigantic  torch  penetrated  the 
neighboring  forest,  and  lit  up  the  trees  with  a  lustre  more  dazzling 
than  that  of  day ;  whilst  the  strong  shades  brought  into  such 
immediate  proximity  with  the  sharp,  red  light,  as  it  glanced  upon 
every  upright  stem  or  trunk,  gave  a  new  and  grotesque  outline  to 
the  familiar  objects  of  the  wood.  The  glare  fell  upon  the  sward 
of  the  forest,  and  towards  the  rear  upon  a  sheet  of  water,  which 
showed  the  conflagration  to  have  been  kindled  on  the  bank  of 
some  river.  Not  less  conspicuous  than  the  local  features  of  the 
scene  were  the  figures  of  a  considerable  party  of  soldiers  passing 
to  and  fro  in  idle  disarray  through  the  region  of  the  light,  and  a 
short  distance  from  them  a  number  of  horses  attached  to  the 
branches  of  the  neighboring  trees.  Horse  Shoe  and  his  young 
companion  stood  gazing  for  some  moments  upon  the  spectacle,  the 
sergeant  in  silent  conjecture  and  perplexed  thoughtfulness  as  to  the 
character  of  the  persons  below,  Henry  intent  only  upon  the  novel 
and  picturesque  beauty  of  the  view. 

The  light  shone  directly  up  the  road,  and  fell  upon  the  persons 
of  our  two  friends,  a  circumstance  to  which  the  sergeant  seemed 
to  give  no  heed,  until  Henry  pointed  out  to  him  a  horseman, 
from  the  direction  of  the  fire,  who  was  now  advancing  towards 
them. 

“  Sergeant,  turn  back  into  the  shade,”  cried  Henry ;  “  that  man 
is  coming  after  us.” 

“  Keep  your  ground,”  replied  Horse  Shoe ;  “  he  has  no  ill- 
will  to  us.  He  wears  the  dress  of  an  honest  man  and  a  good 
soldier.” 

“  Who  goes  there  ?”  called  out  the  horseman,  as  he  now  came 
within  speaking  distance.  “Stand  and  tell  me  who  you  are  !” 

“  Friends  to  the  hunting-shirt  and  buck-tail,”  replied  Robinson. 

“  1  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,”  rejoined  the  scout,  as  he 
advanced  still  nearer.  “  Where  from,  and  in  what  direction  do 
you  travel  ?” 

“That  should  be  AYilliam  Scoresby’s  voice,  of  the  Amherst 

24 


554 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBIN SOX. 


Rangers,”  shouted  Henry,  with  animation ;  “  as  I  live,  it  is  the 
very  man !” 

“  Who  have  we  here !”  returned  the  horseman.  “  Henry  Lind¬ 
say  !  our  deputy  corporal !  AWiy,  man,  where  did  you  spring 
from  ?”  he  added,  in  a  tone  of  joyful  surprise,  as  he  ofi'ered  Henry 
his  hand. 

“  Ho,  sister  Mildred — Mr.  Musgrove !”  exclaimed  Henry,  calling 
out  at  the  top  of  his  voice  to  his  friends,  who  were  waiting 
behind  for  intelligence.  “  Come  up — come  up !  Here’s  good 
luck !” 

And  with  a  continued  vociferation,  he  galloped  back  until  he 
met  his  sister,  and  conducted  her  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  whence,  fol¬ 
lowing  the  guidance  of  William  Scoresby,  the  party  descended  to 
the  bivouac  of  the  Amherst  Rangers. 

Henry  eagerly  sought  out  Stephen  Foster,  and,  having  brought 
him  into  the  presence  of  Mildred,  received  from  him  a  narrative  of 
the  course  of  events  which  had  led  to  this  fortunate  meeting. 

The  Rangers  had  marched  from  Virginia  a  few  days  after  Mil¬ 
dred  had  left  the  Dove  Cote.  They  had  fallen  in  with  Gates’s 
shattered  army  at  Hillsborough,  where,  after  tarrying  almost  a  fort¬ 
night,  they  were  furnished  an  opportunity  to  take  some  active 
share  in  the  operations  of  the  day  by  the  enterprise  of  Shelby 
against  Ferguson,  the  knowledge  of  which  had  reached  them  at 
Gates’s  headquarters,  whither  a  messenger  from  Shelby  had  come 
to  ask  for  aid.  The  Rangers  had  accordingly  volunteered  for  this 
service,  and,  with  the  permission  of  the  general,  were  now  on  their 
way  towards  Burk  Court  House,  there  hoping  to  receive  intelli¬ 
gence  that  would  enable  them  to  join  the  allies. 

They  had  for  some  miles  been  marching  along  the  same  road 
taken  by  our  travellers,  not  more  than  two  hoims  ahead  of  them ; 
and  having  reached  the  Catawba  near  sundown,  had  determined 
to  encamp  there  for  the  night.  The  soldiers,  unaccustomed  to 
exact  discipline,  had,  in  sport,  set  fire  to  a  tall  pine  which  some 
accident  of  the  storm  had  killed,  and  produced  the  conflagration 
that  had  lighted  Horse  Shoe  and  his  charge  to  the  scene  of  the 
present  meeting. 

It  may  be  imagined  that  this  incident  afibrded  great  satisfaction 
to  Mildred  and  her  party,  who  were  thus  brought  into  connexion 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


555 


■with  a  numerous  body  of  friends,  -with  whom  they  determined 
henceforth  to  pursue,  their  journey.  The  first  good  result  of  this 
encounter  was  immediately  experienced  in  the  comfortable  though 
rude  accommodation  which  the  prompt  and  united  efforts  of  the 
Rangers  supplied  to  Mildred  and  her  friend,  Mary  Musgrove,  in 
enabling  them  to  pass  a  night  of  sound  and  healthful  sleep. 

On  the  following  day,  the  Rangers  and  their  new  companions 
arrived  at  Burk  Court  House.  They  were  here  made  acquainted 
with  the  fact  that  the  mountain  troops  were  at  this  time  moving 
towards  Gilbert-town.  They  accordingly,  after  a  night’s  rest, 
resumed  their  march,  and  by  a  toilsome  journey  through  a  rugged 
mountain  district,  succeeded  on  the  third  evening  in  reaching  the 
little  village  which  had  but  a  short  time  since  been  the  head-quar¬ 
ters  of  Ferguson  and  the  spot  of  Arthur  Butler’s  captivity. 

They  were  now  in  advance  of  Campbell  and  his  mountaineers ; 
and,  in  waiting  for  these  troops,  they  were  afforded  leisure  to 
recruit  themselves  from  the  effects  of  their  late  fatigues.  Good 
quarters  were  obtained  for  Mildred  and  her  companions.  She 
required  repose,  and  profited  by  the  present  opportunity  to  enjoy 
it. 

The  village  at  this  moment  was  full  of  troops.  Brandon  and 
Lacy,  with  their  followers,  whom  we  have  referred  to  in  the  last 
chapter,  were  already  there,  in  daily  expectation  of  the  arrival  of 
the  confederates ;  and  amongst  these  men.  Sergeant  Robinson  and 
his  companion,  the  miller,  found  the  means  of  relieving  the 
tediousness  of  delay,  to  say  nothing  of  Henry,  who  had  now 
become  so  decidedly  martial  in  his  inclinations,  that  the  camp  was 
to  him  a  scene  of  never-fading  interest. 

In  two  days  Campbell’s  army  entered  the  village,  after  a  march 
of  which  we  have  already  given  a  sketch  to  our  reader.  It  was  a 
duty  of  early  concern,  on  the  part  of  Allen  Musgrove  and  the  ser¬ 
geant,  to  apprise  him  of  the  presence  of  Mildred  and  her  brother, 
and  to  communicate  to  him  the  singular  purpose  of  her  mission. 
The  effect  of  this  was  a  visit  by  Campbell,  Shelby,  and  Williams, 
to  the  lady  on  the  evening  of  their  arrival.  The  two  latter  of  these 
officers  had  already  been  personally  active  in  the  behalf  of  Arthur 
Butler,  and  all  felt  the  liveliest  interest  in  his  fortunes.  The  sin¬ 
gular  relation  in  which  Mildred  seemed  to  stand  to  the  captive  offi- 


656 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


cer,  and  tlie  extraordinary  zeal  whicli  her  present  mission  betrayed 
in  his  cause,  drew  forth  a  warm  sympathy  from  the  generous  sol¬ 
diers  around  her,  and  there  was  even  a  tincture  of  the  romance  of 
chivalry  in  the  fervor  with  which,  on  the  present  visit,  they  pledged 
themselves  to  her  service.  With  the  delicacy  that  always  belongs 
to  honorable  and  brave  hearts,  they  refrained  from  inquiry  into  the 
special  inducements  which  could  so  earnestly  enlist  the  lady  in  the 
service  of  their  fellow-soldier,  and  sedulously  strove  to  raise  her 
spirits  into  a  cheerful  and  happy  tone  by  the  hopes  they  were  able 
to  inspire. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 


FEKGUSON  ADVANCES  SOUTH. - HE  HAS  REASON  TO  BECOME  CIR¬ 
CUMSPECT. - ARTHUR  BUTLER  FINDS  HIMSELF  RETREATING  FROM 

HIS  FRIENDS. 

We  return  for  a  moment  to  look  ^.fter  Butler.  As  near  as  my 
information  enables  me  to  speak-J-for  I  wish  to  be  accurate  in 
dates — it  was  about  the  23d  of  September  when  our  hero  arrived 
at  Gilbert-town,  and  found  himself  committed  to  the  custody  of 
Ferguson.  His  situation,  in  many  respects  uncomfortable,  was  not 
altogether  without  circumstances  to  alleviate  the  rigor  of  captivity. 
Ferguson,  though  a  rough  soldier,  and  animated  by  a  zealous  par¬ 
tisanship  in  the  royal  cause  which  imbued  his  feelings  with  a  deep 
hatred  of  the  Whigs,  was  also  a  man  of  education,  and  of  a  dis¬ 
position  to  respect  the  claims  of  a  gentleman  fully  equal  to  him¬ 
self  in  rank  and  consideration — even  when  these  qualities  were 
found  in  an  enemy.  His  intercourse,  of  late,  had  been  almost 
entirely  confined  to  the  wild  spirits  who  inhabited  the  frontier,  and 
who,  impelled  by  untamed  passions,  were  accustomed  to  plunge 
into  every  excess  which  the  license  of  war  enabled  them  to  practise. 
He  had,  accordingly,  adapted  his  behavior  to  the  complexion  of 
this  population,  and  maintained  his  authority,  both  over  his  own 
recruits  and  such  of  the  opposite  party  as  had  fallen  into  his 
hands,  by  a  severe,  and  not  unfrequently  by  even  a  cruel  bearing. 
Following  the  example  set  him  by  Cornwallis  himself,  he  had 
more  than  once  executed  summary  vengeance  upon  the  Whigs 
whom  the  chances  of  war  had  brought  into  his  power ;  or,  what 
was  equally  reprehensible,  had  allowed  the  Tory  bands  who  had 
enlisted  under  his  banner,  to  gratify  their  own  thirst  of  blood  in 
the  most  revolting  barbarities.  Towards  Butler,  however,  he  de¬ 
meaned  himself  with  more  consideration — and  sometimes  even 
extended  to  him  such  little  courtesies  as  might  be  indulged  without 

557 


558 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


risk  to  the  principal  purpose  of  his  safe  custody.  A  separate 
room  was  provided  for  the  prisoner,  and  he  was  allowed  the  occa¬ 
sional  sendees  of  Harry  Winter  and  the  other  companions  of  his 
late  misfortune.  Still,  the  familiar  scenes  of  suffering  and  death 
which  Butler  was  constrained  to  witness  amongst  his  compatriots, 
and  the  consciousness  of  his  own  inability  to  avert  these  calamities, 
greatly  weighed  upon  his  spirits.  His  persuasion,  too,  that  Fer¬ 
guson  was  now  aiding,  by  what  seemed  to  be  a  most  effectual 
participation,  in  the  plan  for  the  capture  of  Clarke,  and  his  belief 
that  this  blow  would  sadly  afflict,  if  not  altogether  dishearten  the 
friends  of  independence  in  the  South,  added  to  his  private  grief. 
He  knew  nothing  of  the  mustering  of  the  mountaineers,  and  saw 
no  hope  of  extrication  from  the  difficulties  that  threatened  to  over¬ 
whelm  his  cause. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  Butler  during  the  first  four  or  five 
days  of  his  captivity  at  Gilbert-town.  At  the  end  of  this  period, 
circumstances  occurred  to  raise  in  his  bosom  the  most  lively  excite¬ 
ment.  Suddenly,  an  order  was  issued  for  the  immediate  movement 
of  the  army  southwards — and  the  prisoners  were  directed  to  accom¬ 
pany  the  march.  It  was  apparent  that  information  of  importance 
had  been  received,  and  that  some  decisive  event  was  at  hand. 
When,  in  pursuance  of  this  command,  the  troops  were  marshalled 
for  their  jom-ney,  and  Butler  was  stationed  in  the  column,  along 
with  all  the  other  prisoners  of  the  post,  he  was  startled  to  observe 
the  dragoon,  James  Curry,  appear  in  the  ranks,  as  one  regularly 
attached  to  the  corps.  Butler  had  seen  nor  heard  nothing  of  this 
man  since  he  had  parted  from  him  at  Blackstock’s  after  the  battle 
of  Musgrove’s  ■  mill ;  and  his  conviction,  that,  acting  under  the 
control  of  some  higher  authority,  this  individual  had  been  the 
principal  agent  in  his  present  misfortunes,  gave  him  a  painful 
anxiety  in  regard  to  the  future.  This  anxiety  was  far  from  being 
diminished,  when  he  now  discovered  that  the  same  person,  with  a 
party  of  dragoons,  was  specially  intrusted  with  his  guardianship. 
Winter  and  the  other  troopers  who  had,  until  this  moment,  been 
allowed  to  keep  him  company,  were  now  directed  to  take  a  station 
amongst  the  common  prisoners,  and  Butler  was  furnished  with  his 
horse,  and  commanded  to  submit  to  the  particular  supervision  of 


HORSK  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


669 


the  dragoon.  These  arrangements  being  made,  the  march  of  Fer¬ 
guson  commenced. 

The  army  moved  cautiously  towards  the  upper  sections  of  the 
district  of  Ninety-Six.  It  was  evident  to  Butler,  from  the  frequent 
hints  dropped  in  conversation  by  the  royalist  officers,  that  Ferguson 
supposed  himself  to  be  getting  every  moment  nearer  to  Clarke. 
In  this  state  of  suspense  and  weariness  the  first  day’s  march  was 
concluded. 

The  second  was  like  the  first.  Ferguson  still  moved  south, 
slowly,  but  steadily.  Every  man  that  was  met  upon  the  road  was 
questioned  by  the  commanding  officer,  to  ascertain  whether  there 
was  any  report  of  troops  westward.  “  Had  any  crossed  Saluda — 
or  been  heard  of  towards  the  mountains  !” — was  an  invariable 
interrogatory. 

None,  that  the  person  questioned  knew  of^ — was  the  common 
reply. 

“  Tush  !  the  devil’s  in  it,  that  we  can  hear  nothing  of  the 
fellow  !”  exclaimed  Ferguson,  after  the  fifth  or  sixth  wayfarer  had 
been  examined.  “  Clarke  and  his  beggars  are  flesh  and  blood — 
they  travel  by  land,  and  not  through  the  air !  Faith,  I  begin  to 
tljink  Cruger  has  saved  us  trouble,  and  has  got  his  hand  on  the 
runaway’s  cixiup  !  James  Curry.” 

The  dragoon  rode  to  the  front  and  bowed. 

“  You  left  Fort  Ninety-Six  only  on  Wednesday  3” 

“  I  did.” 

“  Where  was  Cruger  then  ?” 

“  Marching  towards  Saluda,  with  Brown — following  Clarke,  as 
it  was  supposed — but  on  rather  a  cold  scent  as  one  of  the  couiiers 
reported.” 

“  Humph !  I  must  get  still  nearer  to  the  mountains,”  said  Fer¬ 
guson,  as  he  clenched  his  teeth  and  seemed  absorbed  in  thought. 

In  a  short  time  after  this,  the  column  diverged  from  their 
former  course  by  a  road  that  led  westward. 

Thus  ended  the  second  day. 

During  the  next  two  days,  Ferguson  had  become  manifestly 
more  circumspect  in  his  movement,  and  spent  the  greater  portion 
gf  this  interval  upon  a  road  which  was  said  to  extend  from  Ninety- 
Six,  to  the  Allegany  mountain.  Here  he  remained,  with  the 


660 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


wariness  of  tlie  tiger  that  prepares  to  spring  upon  his  prey ;  and 
it  was  with  a  petulant  temper  that,  after  this  anxious  watch  for 
forty-eight  hours,  he  turned  upon  his  heel  and  summoned  his 
oflScers  around  him,  and  announced  his  determination  to  penetrate 
still  further  into  the  forest.  Like  a  man  jierplexed  and  peevish 
with  crosses,  he  soon  changed  his  mind,  and  ordered  a  lieutenant 
of  cavalry  into  his  presence. 

“  Take  six  of  your  best  appointed  men,”  he  said,  “  and  send  one 
half  of  them  up  this  road  towards  the  mountains — the  other  half 
southwards — and  command  them  not  to  stop  until  they  bring  me 
some  news  of  this  night-hawk,  Clarke.  Let  them  be  trusty  men 
that  you  can  depend  upon.  I  will  wait  but  twenty-four  hours  for 
them.  Meantime,”  he  added,  turning  to  another  officer  present, 
“  I  will  send  a  courier  after  Cruger,  who  shall  find  him  if  he  is 
above  ground.” 

The  following  day — which  brings  us  to  the  third  of  October — a 
decisive  change  took  place  in  the  aspect  of  affairs.  Before  either 
of  the  scouts  that  had  been  lately  despatched  had  returned,  a 
countryman  was  brought  into  Ferguson’s  camp,  who,  being  sub¬ 
mitted  to  the  usual  minute  examination,  informed  the  questioners, 
that  some  thirty  miles,  in  the  direction  of  Fort  Ninety-Six,  he  had 
met  upon  the  road  a  large  party  of  cavalry  under  the  command 
of  Colonel  'Williams — and  that  that  officer  had  shown  great 
anxiety  to  learn  whether  certain  Whig  troops  had  been  seen  near 
Gilbert-town.  The  informant  added,  tliat  “  Williams  appeared  to 
him  to  be  strangely  particular  in  his  inquiries  about  Ferguson.” 

This  intelligence  seemed  suddenly  to  awaken  the  British  partisan 
from  a  dream.  He  was  now  one  hundred  miles  south  of  Corn¬ 
wallis  ;  and,  both  east  and  west  of  the  line  of  communication 
between  them,  it  was  apparent  that  hostile  parties  were  assembling, 
with  a  view  to  some  united  action  against  him.  It  struck  him  now, 
for  the  first  time,  that  an  enemy  might  be  thrown  between  the 
main  army  at  Charlotte  and  his  detachment,  and  thus  cause  him 
some  embarrassment  in  his  retreat — but  it  was  still  with  the  scorn 
of  a  presumptuous  soldier  that  he  recurred  to  the  possibility  of  his 
being  forced  to  fight  his  way. 

“  They  are  for  turning  the  tables  on  me,”  he  said,  in  a  tone  cff 


HOESE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


561 


derision,  “  and  hope  to  pounce  upon  my  back  while  I  am  taken  up 
with  this  half-starved  and  long-legged  fellow  of  the  mountains. 
But  I  will  show  them  who  is  master  yet !” 

In  this  temper  he  commenced  his  retreat,  which  was  conducted 
slowly  and  obstinately  ;  and  it  may  be  supposed  that  Butler,  as  he 
involuntarily  followed  the  fortunes  of  his  enemy,  contemplated 
these  movements  with  an  anxious  interest.  The  common  report  of 
the  camp  made  him  acquainted  with  the  circumstances  which  had 
recommended  the  retreat,  and  he,  therefore,  watched  the  course  of 
events  in  momentary  expectation  of  some  incident  of  great  import¬ 
ance  to  himself. 

At  night  Ferguson  arrived  at  the  Cowpens,  just  twenty-four  hours 
in  advance  of  his  enemies.  Whilst  resting  here  he  received  intel¬ 
ligence  of  the  stout  array  that  had  lately  assembled  at  Gilbert- 
town,  and  which,  he  Avas  now  told,  were  in  full  pursuit  of  him.  It 
was,  at  first,  with  an  incredulous  ear  that  he  heard  the  report  of 
the  numbers  of  this  suddenly-levied  mountain-army.  It  seemed 
incredible  that  such  a  host  could  have  been  convened  in  such  brief 
space  and  with  such  secret  expedition ;  and  even  more  unworthy 
of  belief,  that  they  could  have  been  found  in  the  wild  and  thinly- 
peopled  regions  of  the  Allegany.  Ills  doubt,  hoAvever,  yielded 
to  his  feai",  and  induced  him  to  accelerate  his  pace. 

Ilis  first  care  was  to  despatch,  on  that  night,  a  courier  to  Corn¬ 
wallis,  to  inform  the  general  of  his  situation  and  ask  for  reinforce¬ 
ments.  The  letter  which  bore  this  request  is  still  extant,  and  will 
show  that  even  in  the  difficult  juncture  in  which  we  have  presented 
the  writer  of  it,  his  boastful  confidence  had  not  abandonedJiira. 

Before  the  succeeding  dawn  he  was  again  in  motion,  directing 
his  hasty  march  towards  the  Cherokee  Ford  of  Broad  river.  This 
point  he  reached  at  sun-down.  His  journey  had  been  pursued,  thus 
far,  with  unremitting  industry.  If  his  motions  had  corresponded 
to  his  affected  disesteem  of  his  enemy,  he  Avould  here  have  halted  for 
rest ;  hut,  like  one  who  flies  with  the  superstitious  dread  of  a  goblin 
follower,  the  retreating  partisan  looked  over  his  shoulder  with  an 
unquiet  spirit,  and  made  a  sign  to  his  companions  still  to  press 
forward.  They  crossed  the  river  at  night,  and  did  not  halt  again 
until  they  had  traversed  some  six  or  eight  miles  beyond  the  further 
bank. 


662 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


The  anxiety,  suspense,  and  eager  expectation  of  Butler  increased 
with  these  thickening  demonstrations  of  the  approach  of  a  period 
which  he  foresaw  must  be  decisive,  not  only  of  his  own  hopes,  but, 
in  a  great  degree,  of  the  hopes  of  his  country.  The  retreat  of 
Ferguson  towards  King’s  Mountain,  which  now  lay  but  a  few  miles 
in  advance,  was  a  visible  and  most  striking  type  of  the  vanishing 
power  which  for  a  brief  half-year  had  maintained  its  domination  over 
the  free  sph-its  of  the  south,  and  which  had  aimed,  by  a  cruel  and 
bloody  rule,  to  extinguish  all  that  was  generous  and  manly  in  these 
afflicted  provinces. 

Contenting  myself  with  this  rapid  survey  of  events  which,  of 
themselves,  possess  an  interest  that  would,  if  time  and  space  per¬ 
mitted  me,  have  justified  the  detail  of  a  volume,  I  go  back  to  the 
regular  cui-rent  of  my  story. 


CHAPTER  LV. 


I'HE  WHIGS  CONTINUE  THEIR  MARCH. - MILDRED  IS  LEFT  BEHIND. 

The  army  of  mountaineers  halted  at  Gilbert-town  only  until  a 
vidette  from  Williams  brought  tidings  of  Ferguson’s  late  move¬ 
ments.  These  reached  Campbell  early  in  the  day  succeeding  his 
arrival  at  the  village,  and  apprised  him  that  Williams  followed  on 
the  footsteps  of  the  British  partisan,  and  would  expect  to  unite  his 
force  with  that  of  the  allied  volunteers  at  the  Cowpens — (a  field  not 
yet  distinguished  in  story) — whither  he  expected  to  arrive  on  the 
following  day.  Campbell  determined,  in  consequence,  to  hasten  to 
this  quarter. 

The  present  position  of  Mildred,  notwithstanding  the  kind  sym¬ 
pathy  with  which  every  one  regarded  her,  was  one  that  wrought 
severely  upon  her  feelings.  She  had  heretofore  encountered  the 
hardships  of  her  journey,  and  borne  herself  through  the  trials,  so 
unaccustomed  to  her  sex,  with  a  spirit  that  had  quailed  before  no 
obstacle.  But  now,  finding  herself  in  the  train  of  an  army  just 
moving  forth  to  meet  its  enemy,  with  all  the  vicissitudes  and  peril 
of  battle  in  prospect,  it  was  with  a  sinking  of  the  heart  she  had  not 
hitherto  known,  that  she  felt  herself  called  upon  to  choose  between 
the  alternative  of  accompanying  them  in  their  march,  or  being  left 
behind.  To  adopt  the  first  resolve,  she  was  painfully  conscious 
would  bring  her  to  witness  scenes,  and  perhaps  endure  privations, 
the  very  thought  of  which  made  her  shudder  ;  whilst,  to  remain  at 
a  distance  from  the  theatre  of  events  in  which  she  was  so  deeply  con¬ 
cerned,  was  a  thought  that  suggested  many  anxious  fears,  not  less 
intolerable  than  the  untried  sufierings  of  the  campaign.  She  had, 
thus  far,  braved  all  dangers  for  the  sake  of  being  near  to  Butler ; 
and  now  to  hesitate  or  stay  her  step,  when  she  had  almost  reached 
the  very  spot  of  his  captivity,  and  when  the  fortunes  of  war  might 
soon  throw  her  into  his  actual  presence,  seemed  to  her  like  aban- 

S<>3 


664 


UORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


doning  her  duty  at  the  most  critical  moment  of  trial.  She  was 
aware  that  he  was  in  the  camp  of  the  enemy  ;  that  this  enemy  was 
likely  to  be  overtaken  and  brought  to  combat ;  and  it  was  with  a 
magnified  terror  that  she  summoned  up  to  her  imagination  the 
possible  mischances  which  might  befal  Arthur  Butler  in  the  inflic¬ 
tion  of  some  summary  act  of  vengeance  provoked  by  the  exaspera¬ 
tion  of  conflict.  “  I  have  tempted  the  dangers  of  flood  and  storm 
for  him — of  forest  and  field — noon-day  battle  and  midnight  assault,” 
she  said,  with  an  earnestness  that  showed  she  had  shaken  all  doubts 
from  her  mind  ;  “  I  have  taken  my  vow  of  devotion  to  his  safety— 
to  be  performed  with  such  fidelity  as  befits  the  sacred  bond  between 
us.  I  will  not  blench  now,  in  the  last  struggle,  though  perils 
thicken  around  me.  I’m  prepared  for  the  worst.” 

Allen  Musgrove,  Robinson,  and  Henry  combated  this  resolve 
with  joint  expostulation,  urging  upon  Mildred  the  propriety  of  her 
tarrying  in  the  village,  at  least  until  the  active  operations  of  the 
army  were  terminated— an  event  that  might  be  expected  in  a  few 
days.  But  it  was  not  until  Campbell  himself  remonstrated  with 
her  against  the  indiscretion  of  her  purpose,  and  promised  to  aftbrd 
her  the  means  of  repairing  to  the  scene  of  action  at  any  moment 
she  might  think  her  presence  there  useful,  that  she  relinquished 
her  determination  to  accompany  the  army  on  its  present  expedition. 
It  was,  m  consequence,  ultimately  arranged  that  she  should  remain 
in  the  quarters  provided  for  her  in  Gilbert-town,  attended  by  the 
miller  and  his  daughter,  whilst  a  few  soldiers  were  to  be  detailed 
as  a  guard  for  her  person.  With  this  train  of  attendants,  she  was 
to  be  left  at  liberty  to  draw  as  near  to  the  centre  of  events  as  her 
considerate  and  faithful  counsellor,  Allen  Musgrove,  might  deem 
safe. 

Another  source  of  uneasiness  to  her  arose  out  of  the  separation 
which  she  was  about  to  endure  from  the  sergeant  and  her  brother 
Henry.  Horse  Shoe,  swayed  by  an  irresistible  and  afiectionate 
longing  to  be  present  at  the  expected  passage  of  arms,  which  might 
so  materially  affect  the  fortunes  of  his  captive  fellow-soldier,  Butler, 
had  represented  to  Mildred  the  value  of  the  services  he  might  be 
able  to  render  ;  and  as  the  friendly  solicitude  of  the  miller  and  his 
daughter  left  nothing  within  their  power  to  be  supplied,  towards 
the  comfort  and  protection  of  the  lady,  she  did  not  refuse  her  con- 


IIOaSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


565 


seut  to  this  temporary  desertion — although  it  naturally  awakened 
some  painful  sense  of  bereavement,  at  a  moment  when  her  excited 
feelings  most  required  the  consolation  of  friends. 

Ilenry,  captivated  with  the  prospect  of  military  adventure,  and 
magnified  in  his  own  esteem  by  the  importance  which  Stephen 
Foster  and  the  Eangers  playfully  assigned  to  his  position  in  the 
ranks,  had  so  far  lost  sight  of  the  special  duty  he  had  assumed,  as 
his  sister’s  companion,  that  he  now  resolutely  rebelled  against  all 
attempts  to  persuade  him  to  remain  in  the  village  ;  and  Mildred, 
at  last,  upon  the  pledge  of  the  sergeant  to  keep  the  cadet  under 
his  own  eye,  reluctantly  yielded  to  a  demand  which  she  found  it 
almost  impossible  to  resist. 

These  matters  being  settled,  it  was  not  long  before  Mildred  and 
Mary  Musgrove,  seated  at  the  window  of  the  house  which  had 
been  ^elected  as  their  present  abode,  saw  the  long  array  of  the 
army  glide  by  at  a  brisk  pace,  and  watched  the  careless  and 
laughing  faces  of  the  soldiers,  as  they  filed  oflf  through  the 
only  street  in  the  village,  and  took  the  high  road  leading  south. 

The  troops  had  been  gone  for  several  hours,  and  Allen  Musgrove 
and  the  few  soldiers  who  had  been  left  behind,  had  scattered 
themselves  over  the  village,  to  get  rid  of  the  tedium  of  idleness  in 
the  gossip  of  the  scant  population  which  the  place  afforded. 
Mildred  had  retired  to  a  chamber,  and  Mary  loitered  from  place  to 
place  like  one  disturbed  with  care.  All  the  party  felt  that  deep 
sense  of  loneliness  which  is  so  acutely  perceptible  to  those  who 
suddenly  change  a  life  of  toil  and  incident  for  one  of  rest,  while 
events  of  busy  interest  are  in  expectation. 

“  They  are  gone,  ma’am,”  said  Mary,  as  she  now  crept  into 
Mildred’s  presence,  after  having  travelled  over  nearly  the  whole  vil¬ 
lage,  in  the  state  of  disquietude  I  have  described ;  “  they  are  gone  at 
least  twenty  miles,  I  should  think,  by  this  time ;  and  I  never  would 
have  believed  that  I  could  have  cared  so  much  about  people  I 
never  saw  before.  But  we  are  so  lonesomg,  ma’am.  And  young 
Mister  Henry  Lindsay,  I  should  say,  must  be  getting  tired  by  this 
time  of  day.  As  for  the  matter  of  that,  people  may  get  tireder  by 
standing  still  than  by  going  on.” 

“  How  far  do  they  march  to  day  ?”  inquired  Mildred  ;  “  have  you 
heard  your  father  say,  Mary  ?” 


566 


ilOKSli  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


‘‘  I  heard  him  and  the  troopers  who  are  here  allow,”  replied  the 
maiden,  “  that  Colonel  Campbell  wouldn’t  reach  Colonel  Williams 
before  to-morrow  afternoon.  They  said  it  was  good  fifty  miles’ 
travel.  They  look  like  brave  men — them  that  marched  this  morn¬ 
ing,  ma’am  ;  for  they  went  out  with  good  heart.  The  Lord  send 
that  through  Him  they  may  be  the  means  of  deliverance  to 
Major  Butler  !” 

At  the  mention  of  this  name,  Mildred  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  and  the  tears  trickled  through  her  fingers.  “  The  Lord 
send  it !”  she  repeated,  after  a  moment’s  pause.  “  May  He,  in  his 
mercy,  come  to  our  aid  !”  Then  uncovering  her  face,  and  dropping 
on  her  knees  beside  her  chair,  she  whispered  a  prayer  for  the 
success  of  those  who  had  lately  marched  forth  against  the 
enemy.  , 

When  she  arose  from  this  posture,  she  went  to  the  window,  and 
there  stood  gazing  out  upon  the  quiet  and  unfrequented  street, 
running  over  in  her  mind  the  perils  to  which  her  brother  as  well 
as  Butler  might  be  exposed,  and  smnmoning  to  her  imagination 
the  thousand  subjects  of  solicitude,  which  her  present  state  of 
painful  expectation  might  be  supposed  to  create  or  recall. 

“We  will  set  forth  early  to-morrow,”  she  said,  addressing  her¬ 
self  to  her  companion,  “  so  tell  your  father,  Mary.  We  will  follow 
the  brave  friends  who  have  left  us  :  I  cannot  be  content  to  linger 
behind  them.  I  wiU  sleep  in  the  lowliest  hovel,  or  in  the  common 
shelter  of  the  woods,  and  share  all  the  dangers  of  the  march, 
rather  than  linger  here  in  this  dreadful  state  of  doubt  and  silence. 
Tell  yom’  father  to  make  his  preparations  for  our  departure  to¬ 
morrow  :  tell  him  I  cannot  abide  another  (fay  in  this  place.” 

“  I  should  think  we  might  creep  near  them,  ma’am,”  replied 
Mary,  “  near  enough  to  see  and  hear  what  was  going  on — which 
is  always  a  great  satisfaction,  and  not  get  ourselves  into  trouble 
neither.  I  am  sure  my  father  would  be  very  careful  of  us,  and 
keep  us  out  of  harm’s  way,  come  what  would.  And  it  is  distress¬ 
ing  to  be  so  far  off,  when  you  don’t  know  what’s  going  to  turn  up. 
I  will  seek  my  father — who  I  believe  is  over  yonder  with  the 
troopers  at  the  shop,  talking  to  the  blacksmith — I  will  go  there 
and  try  to  coax  him  to  do  your  bidding.  I  know  the  troopers 
want  it  more  than  we  do,  and  they’ll  say  a  word  to  help  it  along.” 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


567 


“  Say  I  desire  to  have  it  so,  Mary.  I  can  take  no  refusal.  Here 
I  will  not  stay  longer.” 

Mary  left  the  apartment,  and  as  she  descended  the  steps,  she 
fell  into  a  rumination  which  arrested  her  progress  full  five  minutes, 
during  which  she  remained  mute  upon  the  stair-case.  “No 
wonder  the  poor  dear  lady  wishes  to  go  !”  was  the  ejaculation 
which  came  at  last  sorrowfully  from  her  heart,  with  a  long  sigh, 
and  at  the  same  time  tears  began  to  flow  :  “  no  wonder  she  wants 
to  be  near  Major  Butler,  who  loves  her  past  the  telling  of  it.  H 
^John  Ramsay  was  there,”  she  added,  sobbing,  “I  would  have 
followed  him — followed  him— yes,  if  I  died  for  it.” 


CHAPTER  LVI. 


AFJFAIRS  BEGIN  TO  DRAW  TO  A  HEAD.  PREPARATIONS  FOR  BATTLE. 

A  PICTURE  OF  THE  TWO  ARMIES. 

After  leaving  Gilbert-town,  Campbell  moved  steadily  toward  the 
point  at  which  he  proposed  to  meet  Williams,  and  by  night-fall 
had  accomplished  about  one  half  of  the  journey.  The  march  fur¬ 
nished  Henry  Lindsay  unalloyed  pleasure.  Every  incident  belong¬ 
ing  to  it  awakened  the  fancies  which  he  had  indulged  in  refer¬ 
ence  to  military  life,  and  he  was  delighted  in  the  contemplation 
of  this  actual  accomplishment  of  some  of  the  many  dreams  of 
glory  which  his  boyish  romance  had  engendered  at  home. 
Besides,  being  a  favorite  of  those  in  command,  he  was  allowed  to 
ride  in  the  ranks  whenever  it  suited  his  pleasure,  and  to  amuse 
himself  with  what  subject  of  interest  the  journey  afforded ; 
whilst,  at  the  same  time,  he  found  his  personal  ease  so  much 
attended  to  as  to  leave  him  but  little  room  to  complain  of  the  dis¬ 
comfort  or  toil  of  the  campaign. 

The  night  was  spent  in  the  woods,  and  it  was  scarcely  day-break, 
when  the  exhilarating  though  harsh  clamor  of  the  horns  sum¬ 
moned  the  troops  to  the  renewal  of  their  journey,  which  was  pur¬ 
sued  until  the  afternoon,  when,  about  four  o’clock,  they  reached 
the  border  of  the  tract  of  country  known  as  the  Cowpens.  Afar 
off,  occupying  a  piece  of  elevated  ground,  Campbell  was  enabled 
to  descry  a  considerable  body  of  cavalry,  whose  standard,  dress, 
and  equipment,  even  at  this  distance,  sufficiently  made  known  to 
him  their  friendly  character, — a  fact  that  was  immediately  after¬ 
wards  confirmed  by  the  report  of  some  videttes,  who  had  been 
stationed  upon  the  road  by  which  Campbell  advanced.  A  brief 
interval  brought  the  two  parties  together,  and  the  force  of  the 
allied  bands  was  thus  augmented  by  the  addition  of  our  gallant 
friend  Williams,  at  the  head  of  four  hundred  sturdy  companions. 

“  Make  a  short  speech  of  it,”  said  Shelby,  addressing  Williams, 

568 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


569 


after  tliat  officer  bad  ridden  into  the  circle  of  his  comrades,  and 
had  exchanged  with  them  a  friendly  greeting,  “  you  have  been 
busy,  fellow-soldier,  whilst  we  were  waiting  to  see  the  grass  grow. 
What  has  become  of  the  runaway  ?” 

“  Ke  left  this  spot  but  yesterday,”  replied  Williams  ;  “  Ferguson 
has  something  of  the  bull-dog  in  him  ;  his  retreat,  now  that  he  is 
forced  to  it,  is  surly  and  slow  ;  he  stops  to  snarl  and  growl  as  if  he 
defied  us  to  follow  him.  If  he  had  but  stood  his  ground  here,  we 
should  have  had  him  in  as  pretty  a  field  as  one  might  desire. 
Devil  thank  him  for  his  prudence  !  But  he  is  now"  at  the  Cherokee 
Ford  of  Broad  river — so  I  conjecture,  by  the  report  of  my  scouts 
— liard  upon  thirty  miles  from  here,  on  his  w'ay  towards 
Charlotte.” 

“  Say  you  so  ?”  exclaimed  Campbell ;  “  then,  by  my  faith,  we 
have  no  time  to  lose  !  Gentlemen,  we  will  rest  but  an  hour,  and 
then  to  it,  for  a  night  march.  Pick  me  out  your  best  men  and 
stoutest  horses  ;  leave  the  footmen  behind,  and  the  w-eakest  of  the 
cavalry.  This  fellow  may  take  it  into  his  head  to  show  his  heels. 
If  I  can  but  tread  upon  the  tail  of  the  copperhead  with  one  foot, 
he  will  throw  himself  into  his  coil  for  fight, — that’s  the  nature  of 
theffieast, — and  after  that,  if  need  be,  we  can  threaten  him  until 
all  our  force  arrives.  Shelby,  look  to  the  immediate  execution  of 
this  order.” 

“  That’s  glorious,  sergeant,”  said  Henry,  who,  with  his  com¬ 
panion,  Robinson,  had  stolen  up  to  the  skirts  of  the  circle  of 
officers  during  this  conference,  and  had  heard  Campbell’s  order. 
“  I  am  of  this  party,  whoever  goes.  Colonel  Campbell,”  he  added, 
with  the  fiimiliarity  of  his  privilege,  “  the  Rangers  are  ready  for 
you,  at  any  rate.” 

“  There’s  a  mettlesome  colt,”  said  Campbell,  laughing  and  speak¬ 
ing  to  the  officers  around  him,  “  that  bird  shows  fight  before  his 
spurs  are  grown.  P'-ay,  sir,”  he  continued,  addressing  Henry, 
“  what  command  have  you  ?” 

“  I  consider  myself  answerable  for  the  second  platoon  of  the 
Amherst  Rangers,”  replied  Henry,  with  a  waggish  sauciness,  “  and 
they  march  this  night,  whatever  happens.” 

“  You  shall  serve  with  ine  in  the  staff,  master,”  said  Campbell, 


570 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


playfully,  “  such  fiery  young  blades  must  be  looked  after.  Get 
your  men  ready ;  you  shall  go,  I  promise  5'ou.” 

Henry,  delighted  at  the  notice  he  had  received,  rode  off  with 
alacrity  to  spread  the  news. 

The  council  broke  up,  and  the  earliest  arrangements  were  set  on 
foot  to  make  the  draught  required  by  the  general  orders. 

Before  the  day  had  departed,  nine  hundred  picked  men,  well 
mounted  and  equipped,  were  seen  spurring  forward  from  the  line, 
and  taking  a  position  in  the  column  of  march,  which  was  now 
prepared  to  move.  All  the  principal  officers  of  the  army  accom¬ 
panied  this  detachment,  in  which  were  to  be  seen  the  Amherst 
Rangers  with  their  redoubtable  recruits,  Henry  Lindsay  and  the 
sergeant. 

It  rained  during  the  night,  a  circumstance  that,  however  it 
increased  the  toils  of  the  soldiers,  but  little  abated  their  speed — 
and,  an  hour  before  daybreak,  they  had  reached  the  destined 
point  on  Broad  river :  but  the  game  had  disappeared.  Ferguson, 
as  we  have  seen,  had  pushed  his  march  on  the  preceding  evening 
beyond  this  spot,  and  had  taken  the  road,  as  it  was  reported, 
towards  King’s  mountain,  which  was  not  above  twelve  miles 
distant. 

A  few  hours  were  given  by  Campbell  to  the  refreshment  of  his 
troops,  who  halted  upon  the  bank  of  the  river,  where,  having 
kindled  their  fires  and  opened  their  wallets,  they  soon  found  them¬ 
selves  in  a  condition  that  pleasantly  contrasted  with  the  discomforts 
of  their  ride  during  the  night.  The  enemy  consisted  principally 
of  infantry — and  Campbell,  having  gained  so  closely  upon  their 
footsteps,  felt  no  doubt  of  overtaking  them  in  the  course  of  the 
day.  He,  therefore,  determined  to  allow  his  men  full  time  to 
recruit  their  strength  for  the  approaching  conflict. 

The  rain  had  ceased  before  the  dawn.  The  clouds  had  fled 
from  the  firmament  before  a  brisk  and  enlivening  autumnal  breeze, 
and  the  sun  rose  with  unusual  splendor.  It  was  one  of  those  days 
which  belong  to  October,  clear,  cool,  and  exhilarating — when  all 
animal  nature  seems  to  be  invigorated  by  breathing  an  atmosphere 
of  buoyant  health.  For  more  than  an  hour  after  the  sun  had  cast 
his  broad  beams  over  the  landscape,  the  wearied  encampment  was 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


571 


seen  stretched  in  slumber — the  camp-guards  only,  and  some  occa¬ 
sional  parties  on  fatigue  service,  were  to  bo  observed  in  motion. 
By  degrees,  the  drowsy  soldiers  woke  up,  refreshed  by  the  change 
of  weather,  no  less  than  by  the  repose  which  they  had  snatched  in 
the  short  moments  of  the  halt.  A  general  summons,  at  last, 
brought  every  one  into  motion.  By  nine  o’clock  of  the  morning, 
the  army  were  in  condition  to  prosecute  their  march,  as  little 
wanting  in  alacrity  or  vigor  as  when  they  first  commenced  their 
labors ;  and,  at  the  hour  designated,  they  were  seen  to  prick  forth 
upon  their  way  with  an  elastic  movement  that  had  in  it  the  viva¬ 
city  of  a  holiday  sport.  Even  our  young  martialist,  Henry,  had 
become  so  inured  to  the  toils  of  the  road,  that  now,  with  the  aid 
of  a  sleep  which  Horse  Shoe  had  afiectionately  guarded  until  the 
last  moment — to  say  nothing  of  a  good  luncheon  of  broiled  venison, 
which  the  boy  discussed  after  he  had  mounted  into  his  saddle — 
he  might  be  considered  the  most  light-hearted  of  the  host. 

Towards  noon,  the  army  reached  the  neighborhood  of  King’s 
mountain.  The  scouts  and  parties  of  the  advance  had  brought 
information  that  Ferguson  had  turned  aside  from  his  direct  road, 
and  taken  post  upon  this  eminence,  where,  it  was  evident,  he  meant 
to  await  the  attack  of  his  enemy.  Campbell,  therefore,  lost  no 
time  in  pushing  forward,  and  was  soon  rewarded  with  a  view  of 
the  object  of  his  pursuit.  Some  two  or  three  miles  distant,  where 
an  opening  through  the  forest  first  gave  him  a  sight  of  the  mass 
of  highland,  he  could  indistinctly  discern  the  array  of  the  adverse 
army  perched  on  the  very  summit  of  the  hill. 

The  mountain  consists  of  an  elongated  ridge,  rising  out  of  the 
bosom  of  an  uneven  countrj',  to  the  height  of  perhaps  five  hundred 
feet,  and  presenting  a  level  line  of  summit  or  crest,  from  which  the 
earth  slopes  down,  at  its  southward  termination  and  on  each  side, 
by  an  easy  descent ;  whilst  northward,  it  is  detached  from  highlands 
of  inferior  elevation  by  a  rugged  valley — thus  giving  it  the  cha¬ 
racter  of  an  insulated  promontory,  not  exceeding  half  a  mile  in 
length.  At  the  period  to  which  our  story  refers,  it  was  covered, 
except  in  a  few  patches  of  barren  field  or  broken  ground,  with  a 
growth  of  heavy  timber,  which  was  so  far  free  from  underwood  as 
in  no  great  degree  to  embarrass  the  passage  of  horsemen ;  and 
through  this  growth  the  eye  might  distinguish,  at  a  considerable 


572 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


distance,  the  occasional  masses  of  grey  rock  that  were  scattered  in 
huge  boulders  over  its  summit  and  sides. 

The  adjacent  region,  lying>  south  from  the  mountain,  was  par¬ 
tially  cleared  and  in  cultivation,  presenting  a  limited  range  of  open 
ground,  over  which  the  march  of  Campbell  might  have  been 
revealed  in  frequent  glimpses  to  the  British  partisan,  for  some 
three  or  four  miles.  We  may  suppose,  therefore,  that  the  two 
antagonists  watched  each  other,  during  the  advance  of  the  ap¬ 
proaching  army  across  this  district,  with  emotions  of  various  and 
deep  interest.  Campbell  drew  at  length  into  a  ravine  which, 
bounded  by  low  and  short  hills,  and  shaded  by  detached  portions 
of  the  forest,  partly  concealed  his  troops  from  the  view  of  the 
enemy,  who  was  now  not  more  than  half  a  mile  distant.  The 
gorge  of  this  dell  or  narrow  valley  opened  immediately  towards 
the  southern  termination  of  the  mountam ;  and  the  column  halted 
a  short  distance  within,  Avhere  a  bare  knoll,  or  round,  low  hill, 
crowned  with  rock,  jutted  abruptly  over  the  road,  and  constituted 
the  only  impediment  that  prevented  each  party  from  inspecting 
the  array  of  his  opponent. 

It  was  an  hour  after  noon,  and  the  present  halt  was  improved 
by  the  men  in  making  ready  for  battle.  Meanwhile,  the  chief 
officers  met  together  in  front,  and  employed  their  time  in  surveying 
the  localities  of  the  ground  upon  which  they  were  soon  to  be 
brought  to  action.  The  knoll,  I  have  described,  furnished  a 
favorable  position  for  this  observation,  and  thither  they  had  already 
repaired. 

I  turn  from  the  graver  and  more  important  matters  which  may 
be  supposed  to  have  occupied  the  thoughts  of  the  leaders,  as  they 
were  grouped  together  on  the  broad  rock,  to  a  subject  which  was, 
at  this  moment,  brought  to  their  notice  by  the  unexpected  appear¬ 
ance  of  two  females  on  horseback,  on  the  road,  a  full  half  mile  in 
the  rear  of  the  army,  and  who  were  now  approaching  at  a  steady 
pace.  They  were  attended  by  a  man  who,  even  thus  far  off, 
showed  the  sedateness  of  age ;  and,  a  short  space  behind  them, 
rode  a  few  files  of  troopers  in  military  array. 

It  was  with  mingled  feelings  of  surprise  and  admiration  at  the 
courage  which  could  have  prompted  her,  at  such  a  time,  to  visit 
the  army,  that  the  party  recognised  Mildred  Lindsay  and  her 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


573 


attendants,  in  the  approaching  cavalcade.  These  emotions  were 
expressed  by  them  in  the  rough  and  hearty  phrase  of  their  habitual 
and  familiar  intercourse. 

“Let  me  beg,  gentlemen,”  said  Campbell,  interrupting  them, 
“  that  you  speak  kindly  and  considerately  of  yonder  lady.  By  my 
honor,  I  have  never  seen  man  or  woman  with  a  more  devoted  or 
braver  heart.  Poor  girl ! — she  has  nobly  followed  Butler  through 
his  afflictions,  and  taken  her  share  of  suffering  with  a  spirit  that 
should  bring  us  all  to  shame.  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,  who  has 
squired  her  to  our  camp,  even  from  her  father’s  house,  speaks  of  a 
secret  between  her  and  our  captive  friend,  that  tells  plainly  enough 
to  my  mind  of  sworn  faith  and  long-tried  love.  As  men  and  sol¬ 
diers,  we  should  reverence  it.  Williams,  look  carefully  to  her 
comfort  and  safety.  Go,  man,  at  once,  and  meet  her  on  the  road. 
God  grant  that  this  day  may  bring  an  end  to  her  grief !” 

Williams  departed  on  his  mission,  and  when  he  met  the  lady, 
her  brother  and  the  sergeant  were  already  in  her  train. 

Allen  Musgrove  explained  the  cause  of  this  unlooked-for  appari¬ 
tion.  The  party,  in  obedience  to  Mildred’s  urgent  wish,  and 
scarcely  less  to  the  content  of  all  the  others,  had  quitted  their 
secluded  position  at  Gilbert-town  on  the  preceding  morning ;  and 
learning  in  the  course  of  the  day  from  persons  on  the  road,  that 
Ferguson  had  moved  noi  thwards,  the  miller  had  taken  a  direction 
across  the  country  which  enabled  him  to  intercept  the  army  at  its 
present  post,  with  little  more_^than  half  the  travel  which  the  circuit¬ 
ous  route  of  the  march  had' required.  They  had  passed  the  night 
under  a  friendly  roof  some  ten  or  twelve  miles  distant,  and  had 
overtaken  their  companions  at  the  critical  moment  at  which  they 
have  been  introduced  to  view. 

At  Mildred’s  request  she  was  conducted  into  the  presence  of 
Campbell,  who  still  retained  his  station  on  the  knoll.  A  thought¬ 
ful  and  amiable  deference  was  manifested  towards  her  by  the 
assembled  soldiers,  who  received  her  with  many  kind  and  encou¬ 
raging  greetings.  That  air  of  perturbation  and  timidity  which,  in 
spite  of  all  efforts  at  self-control,  the  novelty  of  her  position  and 
the  consciousness  of  the  dreadful  scene  at  hand  had  thrown  over 
her  demeanor,  gradually  began  to  give  way  before  the  assurances 
and  sympathy  of  her  friends ;  and,  at  length,  she  became  suffi- 


574 


HOKSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


ciently  self-possessed  to  look  around  her  and  mark  the  events  that 
were  in  progress. 

The  important  moment  of  battle  drew  nigh,  and  the  several 
leaders  respectively  took  their  leave  of  her,  with  an  exhortation  to 
be  of  good  cheer,  and  to  remain  at  her  present  post  under  the  charge 
of  her  trusty  companion,  the  miller,  who  was  fully  instructed  by 
Campbell  as  to  the  course  he  should  take  for  the  lady’s  safety,  in 
whatever  emei’gency  might  arise. 

Here  we  leave  her  for  a  moment,  whilst  we  cast  a  glance  at  the 
preparations  for  battle. 

It  was  three  o’clock  before  these  arrangements  were  completed. 
I  have  informed  my  reader  that  the  mountain  terminated  imme¬ 
diately  in  front  of  the  outlet  from  the  narrow  dell  in  which  Camp¬ 
bell’s  army  had  halted,  its  breast  protruding  into  the  plain  only 
some  few  hundred  paces  from  the  head  of  the  column,  whilst  the 
valley,  that  forked  both  right  and  left,  afforded  an  easy  passage 
along  the  base  on  either  side.  Ferguson  occupied  the  very  summit, 
and  now  frowned  upon  his  foe  from  the  midst  of  a  host  confident 
in  the  strength  of  their  position,  and  exasperated  by  the  pursuit 
which  had  driven  them  into  this  fastness. 

Campbell  resolved  to  assail  this  post  by  a  spirited  attack,  at  the 
same  moment,  in  front  and  on  the  two  flanks.  With  this  intent 
his  army  was  divided  into  three  equal  parts.  The  centre  was 
reserved  to  himself  and  Shelby ;  the  right  was  assigned  to  Sevier 
and  M’Dowell ;  the  left  to  Cleveland  and  Williams.  These  two 
latter  parties  were  to  repair  to  their  respective  sides  of  the  mountain, 
and  the  whole  were  to  make  the  onset  by  scaling  the  heights  as 
nearly  as  possible  at  the  same  instant. 

The  men,  before  they  marched  out  of  the  raidne,  had  dismounted 
and  picqueted  their  horses  under  the  winding  shelter  of  the  hills  ; 
and,  being  now  separated  into  detached  columns  formed  in  solid 
order,  they  were  put  in  motion  to  reach  their  allotted  posts.  The 
Amherst  Rangers  were  retained  on  horseback  for  such  duty  as 
might  require  speed,  and  were  stationed  close  in  the  rear  of  Camp¬ 
bell’s  own  division,  which  now  merely  marched  from  behind  the 
shelter  of  the  knoll  and  halted  in  the  view  of  the  enemy,  until 
suflicient  delay  should  be  aflforded  to  the  flanking  divisions  to  attain 
their  gi-oimd. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


.575 


Mildred,  attended  by  Allen  Musgrove  and  bis  daughter,  still 
maintained  her  position  on  the  knoll,  and  from  this  height  sur¬ 
veyed  the  preparations  for  combat  with  a  beating  heart.  The  scene 
within  her  view  was  one  of  intense  occupation.  The  air  of  stern 
resolve  that  sat  upon  every  brow  ;  the  silent  but  onward  movement 
of  the  masses  of  men  advancing  to  conflict ;  the  few  brief  and  quick 
words  of  command  that  fell  from  the  distance  upon  her  ear ;  the 
sullen  beat  of  the  hoof  upon  the  sod,  as  an  occasional  horseman 
sped  to  and  fro  between  the  more  remote  bodies  and  the  centre 
division,  which  yet  stood  in  compact  phalanx  immediately  below 
her  at  the  foot  of  the  hill ;  then  the  breathless  anxiety  of  her  com¬ 
panions  near  at  hand,  and  the  short  note  of  dread,  and  almost 
terror,  that  now  and  then  escaped  from  the  lips  of  Mary  Musgrove, 
as  the  maiden  looked  eagerly  and  fearfully  abroad  over  the  plain  ; 
all  these  incidents  wrought  upon  her  feelings  and  caused  her  to 
tremble.  Yet,  amidst  these  novel  emotions,  she  was  not  insensible 
to  a  certain  lively  and  even  pleasant  interest,  arising  out  of  the 
picturesque  character  of  the  spectacle.  The  gay  sunshine  striking 
aslant  these  moving  battalions,  lighting  up  their  fringed  and  many- 
colored  hunting-shirts,  and  casting  a  golden  hue  upon  their  brown 
and  weather-beaten  faces,  brought  out  into  warm  relief  the  chief 
characteristics  of  this  peculiar  woodland  army.  And  Mildred  some¬ 
times  forgot  her  fears  in  the  fleeting  inspiration  of  the  sight,  as  she 
watched  the  progress  of  an  advancing  column — at  one  time 
moving  in  close  ranks,  with  the  serried  thicket  of  rifles  above  their 
heads,  and  at  another  deploying  into  files  to  pass  some  narrow 
path,  along  which,  with  trailed  arms  and  boflies  bent,  they  sped 
with  the  pace  of  hunters  beating  the  hill-side  for  game.  The 
tattered  and  service-stricken  banner  that  shook  its  folds  in  the 
wind  above  these  detached  bodies,  likewise  lent  its  charm  of 
association  to  the  field  the  silence  and  steadfastness  of  the  array  in 
which  it  was  borne,  and  its  constant  onward  motion  ;  showing  it  to 
be  encircled  by  strong  arms  and  stout  hearts. 

Turning  from  these,  the  lady’s  eye  was  raised,  with  a  less  joyous 
glance,  towards  the  position  of  the  enemy.  On  the  most  prominent 
point  of  the  mountain’s  crest  she  could  descry  the  standard  of  Eng¬ 
land  fluttering  above  a  concentrated  body,  whose  scarlet  uniforms, 
as  the  sun  glanced  upon  them  through  the  forest,  .showed  that  hero 


Ferguson  lind  posted  his  corps  of  regulars,  and  held  them  to 
meet  the  attack  of  the  centre  division  of  the  assailants  ;  whilst  the 
glittering  of  bayonets  amidst  the  dark  foliage,  at  intervals,  rearward  "v 
along  the  line  of  the  summit,  indicated  that  heavy  detachments 
were  stationed  in  this  quarter  to  guard  the  flanks.  The  marching 
and  countei'inarching  of  the  frequent  corps,  from  various  positions 
on  the  summit ;  the  speeding  of  officers  on  horseback,  and  the 
occasional  movement  of  small  squadrons  of  dragoons,  who  were  at 
one  moment  seen  struggling  along  the  sides  of  the  mountain,  and, 
at  another,  descending  towards  the  base  or  returning  to  the  sum¬ 
mit,  disclosed  the  earnestness  and  activity  of  the  pi’eparation  with 
which  a  courageous'  soldier  may  be  supposed  to  make  ready  for 
his  foe. 

It  was  with  a  look  of  sorrowful  concern  which  brought  tears  into 
her  eyes,  that  Mildred  gazed  upon  this  host,  and  strained  her  vision 
in  the  vain  endeavor  to  catch  some  evidences  of  the  presence  of 
Arthur  Butler. 

“  We  both  look,  perchance,”  she  said  to  herself,  “  at  this  very 
instant,  upon  yon  hateful  banner — and  with  the  same  aversion  : 
but  oh,  with  what  more  painful  apprehension  it  is  my  fortune  to 
behold  it !  Little  does  he  think  that  Mildred’s  eyes  are  turned 
upon  it.  ’Tis  well  he  does  not — his  noble  heart  would  chafe  itself 
with  ten-fold  anguish  at  the  cruel  thraldom  that  separates  us.  Yes, 

’tis  well  he  does  not  dream  that  his  Mildred  is  here  to  witness  this 
dreadful  struggle,”  she  continued,  musing  over  the  subject  of  her 
grief,  “  it  might  tempt  him  to  some  rash  endeavor  to  break  his 
bondage.  It  is  better  as  it  is  ;  the  misery  of  the  thought  of  our 
afflictions  should  be  mine  only ;  the  brave  patience  of  a  manly 
soldier  is  his,  and  should  not  be  embittered  with  sorrows  that  belong 
not  to  the  perils  of  war.” 

“  Sister,”  said  Henry,  who  had  stolen  up  the  hill  unobserved^ 
and  now  stood  beside  Mildred,  “  take  courage  and  keep  a  good 
heart !  The  very  day  I  often  prayed  to  see  has  come — and  it  has 
come  sooner  than  you  promised  it  should.  Here  I  am  in  the  field, 
amongst  men,  and  no  play-game  is  it,  either,  to  keep  u.s  busy,  but 
downright  earnest  battle.  And  then,  dear  sister,  you  are  here  to 
look  on — isn’t  that  a  piece  of  good  luck  ?” 

“  Ah,  brother,  I  could  talk  to  you  with  a  boastful  tongue  when 


'J. 

;•  HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON.  577 

all  around  us  was  peace  and  security.  I  cannot  exhort  you  now. 
If  I  dare,  I  would  beg  you  to  stay  by  my  side.  I  have  need  of 
your  comfort,  and  shudder  with  a  chilly  fear.  Ilenry,  that  smajl 
hand  of  yours  can  do  no  service  to-day — and  in  truth,  I  cannot  bear 
to  see  you  exposed  to  danger.” 

“  In  tears,  sister !  Come  now,  this  is  not  like  you.  Hasn’t  Ar¬ 
thur  fought  many  a  day  and  often  ?  And  didn’t  you  set  him  on, 
with  good  brave  words  for  it  ?” 

“  I  was  not  there  to  see  him,”  interrupted  Mildred. 

“  Well,  sister,  I  must  get  to  my  post,”  said  Henry.  “  I  serve  as 
aide-de-camp,  and  Horse  Shoe  is  to  help  me.  By-the-by,  Mildred, 
the  sergeant  is  uncommonly  silent  and  busy  to-day.  He  smells 
this  battle  like  an  old  soldier,  and  I  heard  him  give  a  few  hints  to 
Campbell,  concerning  the  marching  up  yonder  hill ; — he  told  him 
the  column  should  not  display  until  they  got  near  the  top,  as  Fer¬ 
guson  has  no  cannon  ;  and  the  Colonel  took:  it  very  gladly.  Horse 
Shoe,  moreover,  thinks  we  will  beat  them — and  the  men  have 
great  dependence  on  what  he  says.  I  shall  not  lose  sight  of  him 
to-day,” 

“  For  Heaven’s  sake,  Henry,”  exclaimed  Mildred,  “  my  dear 
brother,  do  not  think  of  following  the  sergeant!  I  cannot  part 
with  you,”  she  added,  with  great  earnestness ;  “  it  is  an  awful  time 
for  brother  and  sister  to  separate — stay  with  me.” 

The  cadet  turned  a  look  upon  his  sister  of  surprise,  at  the  new 
light  in  which  her  present  fears  represented  her. 

“  I  thought,  Mildred,”  he  said,  “  you  were  brave.  Hav’n’t  we 
come  all  this  way  from  home  to  assist  Butler  ?  And  are  you  now, 
for  the  first  time — just  when  we  are  going  to  pluck  him  from  the 
midst  of  the  wolves  upon  that  mountain — are  you  now  to  weep  and 
play  the  coward,  sister  ? 

“  Go,  go  !”  said  Mildred,  as  she  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hand, 
“  but,  dear  Henry,  remember  you  have  a  weak  arm  and  a  slender 
frame,  and  are  not  expected  to  take  upon  you  the  duties  of  a  man.” 

“  Besides,”  said  Mary  Musgrove,  who  had  been  a  silent  and  per¬ 
plexed  witness  of  this  scene,  and  who  now  put  in  her  word  of 
counsel,  out  of  the  fulness  of  her  heart,  “  besides.  Mister  Henry 
Lindsay,  what  trouble  would  it  give  to  Sergeant  Robinson,  and  all 
the  rest  of  them,  if  you  should  get  lost  scampering  about  the  hills, 

25 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


and  they  shouldn’t  know  where  to  find  you  ?  It  would  take  up  so 
much  of  their  precious  time  in  looking  for  you  :  and,  I  am  sure, 
they  hav’n’t  much  to  spare  !” 

“  You  are  as  valiant  as  a  mouse,”  replied  Henry,  laughing,  “  and 
monstrous  wise,  Mary  Musgrove.  Do  you  take  care  of  my  sister, 
and  speak  a  word  now  and  then  to  keep  up  her  spirits — that  is,  if 
your  tongue  doesn’t  grow  too  thick  with  fright.  Your  teeth  chat¬ 
ter  now.  A  Idss,  Mildred.  There  :  God  bless  you  !  I  must  get 
to  my  post.” 

With  these  words,  Henry  bounded  off  towards  the  valley  to 
rejoin  his  comrades.  Half  way,  he  met  Allen  Musgrove,  who  was 
now  on  his  return  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  whence  he  had  withdrawn 
for  a  brief  space  to  hold  some  converse  with  Robinson. 

“  A  word,”  said  Allen  to  Henry,  as  they  met ;  “  you  are  but  a 
stripling.  Remember  that  this  day’s  work  is  to  be  wrought  by 
men  of  might — those  who  are  keen  of  eye  and  steady  of  foot.  In 
the  tempest  of  battle  your  weight.  Mister  Henry,  would  be  but  as 
a  feather  in  the  gale.  Yet  in  this  fight  none  might  be  crushed 
whose  fall  would  bring  more  anguish  than  yours.  Let  me  beg 
you,  as  a  rash  and  thoughtless  youth,  to  think  of  that.  The  good 
lady,  your  sister — ” 

“  I  cannot  stay  to  hear  you,”  interrupted  Henry ;  “  the  column  is 
beginning  to  move.” 

And  in  a  moment  he  was  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  KIXg’s  MOUNTAIN. 

They  closed  full  fast  on  every  side, 

No  slackness  there  was  found 
And  many  a  gallant  gentleman 
Lay  gasping  on  the  ground. 

O  dread !  it  was  a  grief  to  see, 

And  likewise  for  to  hear 

The  cries  of  men  lying  in  their  gore 

And  scattered  here  and  there. — CAeey  Chase. 


Every  corps  was  now  in  motion,  and  the  two  flanking  divisions 
were  soon  lost  to  view  in  the  intervening  forest.  An  incident  of 
some  interest  to  our  story  makes  it  necessary  that  we  should,  for 
a  moment,  follow  the  track  of  Cleveland  in  his  march  upon  the 
left  side  of  the  mountain. 

The  principal  road  of  travel  northwards  extendedifilong  the  valley 
on  this  side ;  and  upon  this  road  Cleveland  and:  Williams  con¬ 
ducted  their  men,  until  they  arrived  at  a  point  sufliciently  remote 
to  enable  them,  by  ascending  the  height,  to  place  thei®l,y^s  in 
Ferguson’s  rear.  They  had  just  reached  this  point  wheii  they 
encountered  a  picquet  of  the  enemy,  which,  after'a  few  shots,  retired 
hastily  up  the  mountain. 

The  little  o'^ost  had  scarcely  begun  to  give  grourtd,  before 
the  leading  companies  of  the  Whigs  had  their  attention  drawn  to 
the  movements  of  a  small  party  of  horsemen  who  at  that  moment 
appeared  in  sight  upon  the  road,  some  distance  in  advance.  They 
were  approaching  the  American  column  ;  and,  as  if  tak_gn  by  sur¬ 
prise  at  the  appearance  of  this  force,  set  spurs  to  their,  horees  and 
made  an  effort  to  ride  beyond  t\ie  reach  of  Cleveland’s  fire,  whilst 
they  took  a  direction  up  the  mountain  toVards  FergiiiSn’s  strong¬ 
hold.  From  the  equipment  of  these  individuals,  it  might  have 
been  inferred  that  they  were  two  gentlemen  of  some  distinction 

579 


580 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


connected  with  the  royal  army,  attended  by  their  servants,  and 
now  about  arriving,  after  a  long  journey,  at  the  British  camp. 
The  first  was  habited  in  the  uniform  of  an  officer,  was  well  mounted, 
and  displayed  a  light  and  active  figure,  which  appeared  to  advan¬ 
tage  in  the  dexterous  management  of  his  horse.  The  second  was 
a  gentleman  in  a  plain  riding  costume,  of  slender  and  well-knit 
proportions,  and  manifestly  older  than  his  companion,  lie  rode  a 
powerful  and  spirited  horse,  with  a  confidence  and  command  not 
inferior  to  those  of  his  associates.  The  others  in  attendance,  from 
their  position  in  the  rear,  and  from  the  heavy  portmanteaus  that 
encumbered  their  saddles,  we  might  have  no  difficulty  in  conjectur¬ 
ing  to  be  menials  in  the  service  of  the  two  first. 

The  course  taken  by  this  party  brought  them  obliquely  across 
the  range  of  the  fire  of  the  Whigs. 

“  It  is  a  general  officer  and  his  aide,”  exclaimed  one  of  the  sub¬ 
alterns  in  the  advance.  “  Ho  there  1  Stand.  You  are  my 
prisoners  !” 

*“  Spur,  spur,  and  away !  For  God’s  sake,  fly !”  shouted  the 
younger  of  the  two  horsemen  to  his  companion,  as  .he  dashed  the 
rowels  into  his  steed  and  fled  U2>  the  mountain.  “  Push  for  the 
top — one  moment  more  and  we  are  out  of  reach !” 

“  Stop  them,  at  all  hazards !”  vociferated  Cleveland,  the  instant 
his  eye  fell  upon  them.  “  Quick,  lads — level  your  pieces — they 
are  qj^^^ngers  from  Cornwallis.  Rein  up,  or  I  fire !”  he  called 
aloud^fter  the  flying  cavalcade. 

The  appeal  and  the  threat  were  unheeded.  A  score  of  men  left 
the  ranks  and  fan  some  distance  up  the  mountain  side,  and  their 
shots  v^stled  through  the  forest  after  the  fugitives;  One  of  the  at¬ 
tendants  was  seen  to  fall,  and  his  hol’se  to  wheel  round  and  run  back, 
with  a  frightened  pace,  to  the  valley.  The  scarlet  uniform  of  the 
3’'Ounger  horseman,  consjiicuous  through  the  foliag’e  some  distance 
up  the  mountain,  showed  that  he  had  escaped.  His  elder  com¬ 
rade,  when  the  smoke  cleared  away,  was  seen  also  beyond  the 
reach  of  Cleveland’s  fk-e  ;  but  his  altered  j>ace  and  his  relaxed  seat 
in  his  saddle,  made  it  Apparent  that  he  had  received  some  hurt. 
This  was  confirmed  when,  still  nearer  to  the  summit,  the  stranger 
was  seen  to  fall  upon  his  horse’s  neck,  and  thence  to  be  lifted 
to  the  ground  by  tliree  or  four  soldiers  who  had  hastened  to  his  relief. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


681 


These  incidents  scarcely  occupied  more  time  in  their  per¬ 
formance  than  I  have  taken  in  the  narrative ;  and  all  reflection 
upon  them,  for  the  present,  was  lost  in  the  uproar  and  commotion 
of  the  bloody  scene  that  succeeded. 

Meanwhile,  Campbell  and  Shelby,  each  at  the  head  of  his  men 
in  the  centre  division  of  the  army,  steadily  commenced  the  ascent 
of  the  mountain.  A  long  interval  ensued,  in  which  nothing  was 
heard  but  the  tramp  of  the  soldiers  and  a  few  words  of  almost 
whispered  command,  as  they  scaled  the  height ;  and  it  was  not 
until  they  had  nearly  reached  the  summit  that  the  first  peal  of 
battle  broke  upon  the  sleeping  echoes  of  the  mountain. 

Campbell  here  deployed  into  line,  and  his  men  strode  briskly 
upwards  until  they  had  come  within  musket-shot  of  the  British 
regulars,  whose  sharp  and  prolonged  volleys,  at  this  instant,, 
suddenly  burst  forth  from  the  crest  of  the  hill.  Peal  after  peal 
rattled  along  the  mountain  side,  and  volumes  of  smoke,  silvered 
by  the  light  of  the  sun,  rolled  over  and  enveloped  the  com¬ 
batants. 

"When  the  breeze  had  partially  swept  away  this  cloud,  and  opened 
glimpses  of  the  battle  behind  it,  the  troops  of  Campbell  were  seen 
recoiling  before  an  impetuous  charge  of  the  bayonet,  in  which 
Ferguson  himself  led  the  way.  A  sudden  halt  by  the  retreating 
Whigs,  and  a  stern  front  ’steadfastly  opposed  to  the  foe,  checked 
the  ardor  of  his  pursuit  at  an  early  moment,  and,  in  turn,  he  was 
discovered  retiring  towards  his  original  ground,  hotly  followed  by 
the  mountaineers.  Again,  the  same  vigorous  onset  from  the 
royalists  was  repeated,  and  again  the  shaken  bands  of  Campbell 
rallied  and  turned  back  the  rush  of  battle  towards  the  summit. 
At  last,  panting  and  spent  with  the  severe  encounter,  both  parties 
stood  for  a  space  eyeing  each  other  with  deadly  rage,  and  waiting 
only  to  gather  breath  for  the  renewal  of  the  strife. 

At  this  juncture,  the  distant  firing  heard  from  either  flank 
furnished  evidence  that  Sevier  and  Cleveland  had  both  come  in 
contact  with  the  enemy.  The  uprising  of  smoke  above  the  trees 
showed  the  seat  of  the  combat  to  be  below  the  summit  on  the 
mountain  sides,  and  that  the  enemy  had  there  half-way  met  his 
foe ;  whilst  the  .shouts  of  the  soldiers,  alternating  between  the 
parties  of  either  army,  no  less  distinctly  proclaimed  the  fact  that. 


582 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


at  these  remote  points,  the  field  was  disputed  with  bloody  resolu¬ 
tion  and  various  success. 

It  would  overtask  my  poor  fiiculty  of  description,  to  give  my 
reader  even  a  faint  jncture  of  this  rugged  battle-field.  During  the 
pause  of  the  combatants  of  the,  centre,  Campbell  and  Shelby  were 
seen  riding  along  the  line,  and  by  speech  and  gesture  encouraging 
their  soldiers  to  still  more  determined  efibrts.  Little  need  was 
there  for  exhortation  ;  rage  seemed  to  have  refreshed  the  strength 
of  the  men,  who,  with  loud  and  fierce  huzzas,  rushed  again  to  the 
encounter.  They  were  met  with  a  defiance  not  less  eager  than 
their  own  ;  and,  for  a  time,  the  battle  was  again  obscured  under 
the  thick  haze  engendered  by  the  incessant  discharges  of  fire-arms. 
Drom  this  gloom,  a  yell  of  triumph  was  sometimes  heard,  as 
mementary  success  inspired  those  who  struggled  within  ;  and  the 
fr^^ent  twinkle  of  polished  steel  glimmering  through  the  murky 
atmosphere,  and  the  occasional  apparition  of  a  speeding  horseman, 
keen  for  an  instant  as  he  came  into  the  clear  light,  told  of  the 
dreadful  earnestness  and  zeal  with  which  the  unseen  hosts  had 
now  joined  in  conflict.  The  impression  of  this  contact  was  various. 
Parts  of  each  force  broke  before  their  antagonists ;  and  in  those 
spots  where  the  array  of  the  fight  might  be  discenied  through 
the  shade  of  the  forest  or  the  smoke  of  battle,  both  royalists  and 
Whigs  were  found,  at  the  same  instant,  to  have  driven  back 
detached  fragments  of  their  opponents.  Foemen  were  mingled 
hand  to  hand,  through  and  among  their  adverse  ranks ;  and  for  a 
time  no  conjectra-e  might  be  indulged  as  to  the  side  to  which 
victory  would  turn. 

The  flanking  detachments  seemed  to  have  fallen  into  the  same 
confusion,  and  might  have  been  seen  retreating  and  advancing 
upon  the  rough  slopes  of  the  mountain,  in  partisan  bodies, 
separated  from  their  lines ;  thus  giving  to  the  scene  an  air  of 
bloody  riot,  more  resembling  the  sudden  insurrection  of  mutineers 
from  the  same  ranks,  than  the  orderly  Avar  of  trained  soldiers. 

Through  the  din  and  disorder  of  this  fight,  it  is  fit  ^hat  I  shoidd 
take  time  to  mark  the  wanderings  of  Galbraith  Robinson,  whose 
exploits  this  day  would  not  ill  deserve  the  pen  of  Froissart.  The 
doughty  sergeant  had,  for  a  time,  retained  his  post  in  the  ranks 
of  the  Amherst  Rangers,  and  with  them  had  travelled  towards  the 


UORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


583 


mountain  top,  close  in  the  rear  of  Campbell’s  line.  But  when  the 
troops  had  recoiled  before  the  frequent  charges  of  the  royalists, 
finding  his  station,  at  best,  but  that  of  an  inactive  spectator,  he 
made  no  scruple  of  deserting  his  companions  and  trying  his  fortune 
on  the  field  in  such  form  of  adventure  as  best  suited  his  temper. 
With  no  other  weapon  than  his  customary  rifle,  he  stood  his 
ground  when  others  retreated  ;  and  saw  the  ebb  and  flow  of  “  flight 
and  chase”  swell  round  him,  according  to  the  varying  destiny  of 
the  day.  In  these  difficulties,  it  was  his  good  fortune  to  escape 
unhurt ;  a  piece  of  luck  that  may,  perhaps,  be  attributed  to  the 
coolness  with  which  he  either  galloped  over  an  adversary  or  around 
him,  as  the  emergency  rendered  most  advisable. 

In  the  midst  of  this  busy  occupation,  at  a  moment  when  one  of 
the  refluxes  of  battle  brought  him  almost  to  the  summit,  he  descried 
a  small  party  of  British  dragoons,  stationed  some  distance  in  the 
rear  of  P'erguson’s  line,  whose  detached  position  seemed  to  infer  some 
duty  unconnected  with  the  general  fight.  In  the  midst  of  these,  he 
thought  he  recognised  the  figure  and  dress  of  one  familiar  to  his 
eye.  The  person  thus  singled  out  by  the  sergeant’s  glance  stood 
bare-headed  upon  a  projecting  mass  of  rock,  apparently  looking 
with  an  eager  gaze  towards  the  distant  combat.  No  sooner  did 
the  conjecture  that  this  might  be  Arthur  Butler  flash  across  his 
thought,  than  he  turned  his  steed  back  upon  the  path  by  which  he 
had  ascended,  and  rode  with  haste  towards  the  Rangers. 

“  Stephen  Foster,”  he  said,  as  he  galloped  up  to  the  lieutenant, 
and  drew  his  attention  by  a  tap  of  the  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  “  I 
have  business  for  you,  man — you  are  but  wasting  your  time  here — 
pick  me  out  a  half-dozen  of  your  best  fellows  and  bring  them  with 
you  after  me.  Quick — Stephen — quick  !” 

The  lieutenant  of  the  Rangers  collected  the  desired  party  and 
rode  after  the  sergeant,  who  now  conducted  this  handful  of  men 
with  as  much  rapidity  as  the  broken  character  of  the  ground 
allowed,  by  a  circuit  for  a  considerable  distance  along  the  right  side 
of  the  mountain,  until  thej'  reached  the  top.  The  point  at  which 
they  gained  the  summit  brought  them  between  Ferguson’s  line  and 
the  dragoons,  who,  it  was  soon  perceived,  were  the  party  charged 
with  the  custody  of  Butler,  and  who  had  been  thus  detached  in  the 
rear  for  the  more  safe  guardianship  of  the  prisoner.  Horse  Shoe’s 


584 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


manoeuvre  liad  completely  cut  them  off  from  their  friends  in  front, 
and  they  had  no  resource  hut  to  defend  themselves  against  the 
threatened  assault,  or  fly  towards  the  parties  who  were  at  this 
moment  engaged  with  the  flanking  divisions  of  the  Whigs.  They 
were  taken  by  surprise — and  Horse  Shoe,  perceiving  the  import¬ 
ance  of  an  immediate  attack,  dashed  onwards  along  the  ridge  of 
the  mountain  with  precipitate  speed,  calling  out  to  his  companions 
to  follow.  In  a  moment  the  dragoons  were  engaged  in  a  desperate 
pell-mell  wdth  the  Rangers. 

“  Upon  them,  Stephen  !  Upon  them  bravely,  my  lads !  Huzza 
for  Major  Butler  !  Fling  the  major  across  your  saddle — the  first 
that  reaches  him,”  shouted  the  sergeant  with  a  voice  that  was  heard 
above  all  the  uproar  of  battle.  “  What  ho — James  Curry !”  he 
cried  out,  as  soon  as  he  detected  the  presence  of  his  old  acquaintr 
ance  in  this  throng  ;  “  stand  your  ground,  if  you  are  a  man  !” 

The  person  to  whorn  this  challenge  was  directed  had  made  an 
effort  to  escape  towards  a  party  of  his  friends,  whom  he  was  about 
summoning  to  his  aid ;  and  in  the  attempt  had  already  ridden  some 
distance  into  the  wood,  whither  the  sergeant  had  eagerly  followed 
him. 

“  Ah  ha,  old  Truepenny,  are  you  there  ?”  exclaimed  Curry, 
turning  short  upon  his  pursuer,  and  afl'ecting  to  laugh  as  if  in 
scorn.  “Horse  Shoe  Robinson,  well  met  !”  he  added  sternly, 
“  I  have  not  seen  a  better  sight  to-day  than  that’  fool’s  head  ot 
yours  upon  this  hill.  No,  not  even  when  just  now  Patrick  Fergu¬ 
son  sent  your  yelping  curs  hack  to  hide  themselves  behind  the 
trees.” 

“  Come  on,  James !”  cried  Horse  Shoe,  “  I  have  no  time  to  talk. 
We  have  an  old  reckoning  to  settle,  which,  perhaps,  you  mought 
remember.  I  am  a  man  of  my  word  ;  and,  besides,  I  have  set  my 
eye  upon  Major  Butler,”  he  added,  with  a  tone  and  look  that 
were  both  impressed  Avith  the  fierce  passion  of  the  scene  around 
him. 

“  The  devil  blast  you,  and  Major  Butler  to  hoot !”  exclaimed 
Curry,  roused  by  Horse  Shoe’s  air  of  defiance.  “  To  it,  bullj’- !  It  shall 
be  short  work  between  us,  and  bloody,”  he  shouted,  as  he  dis¬ 
charged  a  pistol-shot  at  the  sergeant’s  breast ;  which  failing  to  take 
effect,  he  flung  the  weapon  upon  the  ground,  brandished  his  sword. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


585 


and  spurred  immediately  against  his  challenger.  The  sweep  of  the 
broadsword  fell  upon  the  barrel  of  Horse  Shoe’s  uplifted  rifle,  and 
in  the  next  instant  the  broad  hand  of  our  lusty  yeoman  had  seized 
the  trooper  by  the  collar  and  dragged  him  from  his  horse.  The 
two  soldiers  came  to  the  ground,  locked  in  a  mutual  embrace  ;  and, 
for  a  brief  moment,  a  desperate  trial  of  strength  was  exhibited  in 
the  eftbrt  to  gain  their  feet. 

“  I  have  you  there,”  said  Robinson,  as  at  length,  with  a  flushed 
cheek,  quick  breath,  and  blood-shot  eye,  he  rose  from  the  earth 
and  shook  the  dragoon  from  him,  who  fell  backwards  on  his  knee. 
“  Curse  you,  James  Curry,  for  a  fool  and  villain  1  You  almost 
drive  me,  against  my  will,  to  the  taldng  of  your  life.  I  don’t  want 
your  blood.  You  are  beaten,  man,  and  must  say  so.  I  grant  you 
quarter  upon  condition — ” 

“  Look  to  yourself !  I  ask  no  terms  from  you,”  interrupted 
Curry,  as  suddenly  springing  to  his  feet,  he  now  made  a  second 
pass,  which  was  swung  with  such  unexpected  vigor  at  the  head  of 
his  adversary,  that  Horse  Shoe  had  barely  time  to  catch  the  blow, 
as  before,  upon  his  rifle.  The  broadsword  was  broken  by  the 
stroke,  and  one  of  the  fragments  of  the  blade  struck  the  sergeant 
upon  the  forehead,  inflicting  a  wound  that  covered  his  face  with 
blood.  Horse  Shoe  reeled  a  step  or  two  from  his  g’ound,  and 
clubbing  the  rifle,  as  it  is  called,  by  grasping  the  barrel  towards 
the  muzzle,  he  paused  but  an  instant  to  dash  the  blood  from  his 
brow  with  his  hand,  and  then,  with  one  lusty  sweep,  to  which  his 
sudden  anger  gave  both  precision  and-  energy,  he  brought  the  piece 
full  upon  the  head  of  his  foe,  with  such  Altai  effect  as  to  bury  the 
lock  in  the  trooper’s  brain,  whilst  the  stock  was  shattered  into 
splinters.  Curry,  almost  without  a  groan,  fell  dead  across  a  ledge 
of  rock  at  his  feet. 

“  'I’lie  grudge  is  done,  and  the  fool  has  met  his  desarvings,”  was 
Horse  Shoe’s  brief  comment  upon  the  event,  as  he  gazed  sullenly, 
for  an  instant,  upon  the  dead  corpse.  He  had  no  time  to  tarrv. 
The  i-est  of  his  party  were  still  engaged  with  the  troopers  of  the 
guard,  who  now  struggled  to  preserve  the  custody  of  their  prisoner. 
The  bridle-rein  of  Captain  I’eter  had  been  caught  by  one  of  the 
Rangers,  and  the  good  steed  was  now  quickly  delivered  up  to  his 
master,  who,  flinging  himself  again  into  his  saddle,  rushed  into  the 

25* 


586 


HOESE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


throng  of  combatants.  The  few  dragoons,  dispirited  by  the  loss  of 
their  leader,  and  stricken  with  panic  at  this  strenuous  onset,  turned 
to  flight,  leaving  Butler  in  the  midst  of  his  friends. 

“  God  bless  you,  major !”  shouted  Robinson,  as  he  rode  up  to  his 
old  comrade,  who,  unarmed,  had  looked  upon  the  struggle  with  an 
interest  corresponding  to  the  stake  he  had  in  the  event.  “  Up, 
man — here,  spring  across  the  pommel.  Now,  boys,  down  the 
mountain,  for  your  lives  !  Huzza,  huzza  !  we  have  won  him  back  !” 
he  exclaimed,  as  seizing  Butler’s  arm,  he  lifted  him  upon  the  neck 
of  Captain  Peter,  and  bounded  away  at  full  speed  towards  the  base 
of  the  mountain,  followed  by  Foster  and  his  party. 

The  reader  may  imagine  the  poignancy  of  Mildred’s  emotions 
as  she  sat  beside  Allen  Musgrove  and  his  daughter  on  the  knoll, 
and  watched  the  busy  and  stirring  scene  before  her.  The  centre 
division  of  the  assailing  army  was  immediately  in  her  view,  on 
the  opposite  face  of  the  mountain,  and  no  incident  of  the  battle 
in  this  quarter  escaped  her  notice.  She  could  distinctly  perceive 
the  motions  of  the  Amherst  Rangers,  to  whom  she  turned  her  eyes 
with  a  frequent  and  eager  glance,  as  the  corps  wdth  which  her 
brother  Henry  was  associated ;  and  when  the  various  fortune  of 
the  flght  disclosed  to  her  the  occasional  retreat  of  her  friends 
before  the  vigorous  sallies  of  the  enemy,  or  brought  to  her  ear  the 
renewed  and  angry  volleys  of  musketry,  she  clenched  Mary  Mus- 
grove’s  arm  with  a  nervous  grasp,  and  uttered  short  and  anxious 
ejaculations  that  showed  the  terror  of  her  mind.  ' 

“  I  see  Mister  Henry,  yet,”  said  Mary,  as  Campbell’s  troops 
rallied  from  the  last  shock,  and  again  moved  towards  the  summit. 
“  I  see  him  plainly,  ma’am — for  I  know  his  green  dress,  and  caught 
the  glitter  of  his  brass  bugle  in  the  sun.  And  there  now — all  is 
smoke  again.  Mercy,  how  stubborn  are  these,  men  !  And  there 
is  Mister  Henry  once  more — near  the  top.  He  is  safe,  ma’am.” 

“  How  earnestly,”  said  Mildred,  unconsciously  speaking  aloud  as 
she  surveyed  the  scene,  “  Oh,  how  earnestly  doT  wish  this  battle 
was  done  !  I  would  rather,  Mr.  Musgrove,  be  in  the  midst  of  yon¬ 
der  crowd  of  angry  men,  could  I  but  have  their  recklessness,  than 
liere  in  safety,  to  be  tortured  with  my  preseiit  feelings.” 

“  In  God  is  our  trust,  madam,”  replied  the  miller.  “  His  arm  is 
abroad  over  the  dangerous  paths,  for  a  shield  and  buckler  to  them 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


687 


that  put  their  trust  in  him.  Ha  !  there  is  Ferguson’s  white  horse, 
rushing,  with  a  dangling  rein  and  empty  saddle,  down  the  moun¬ 
tain,  through  Campbell’s  ranks  :  the  rider  _has  fallen ;  and  there, 
madam — there,  look  on  it ! — is  a  white  flag  waving  in  the  hands 
of  a  British  oflicer.  The  fight  is  done.  Hark,  our  friends  are 
cheering  with  a  loud  voice!” 

“  Thank  Heaven — thank  Heaven  1”  exclaimed  Mildred  as  she 
sprang  upon  her  feet ;  “  It  is  even  so  1” 

The  loud  huzzas  of  the  troops  rose  upon  the  air ;  the  firing 
ceased  ;  the  flag  of  truce  fluttered  in  the  breeze,  and  the  confede¬ 
rated  bands  of  the  mountaineers,  from  every  quarter  of  the  late 
battle,  were  seen  hmaying  towards  the  crest  of  the  mountain,  and 
mingling  amongst  the  ranks  of  the  conquered  foe.  Again  and 
jigain,  the  clamorous  cheering  of  the  victors  broke  forth  from  the 
mountain-top,  and  echoed  along  the  neighboring  valleys. 

During  this  wild  clamor  and  busy  movement,  a  party  of  horse¬ 
men  were  seen,  through  the  occasional  intervals  of  the  low  wood 
that  skirted  the  valley  on  the  right,  hastening  from  the  field  with 
an  eager  swiftness  towards  the  spot  where  Mildred  and  her  com¬ 
panions  were  stationed. 

As  they  swept  along  the  base  of  the  mountain,  and  approached 
the  knoll,  they  were  lost  to  view  behind  the  projecting  angles  of 
the  low  hills  that  formed  the  ravine,  through  which,  my  reader  is 
aw.are,  the  road  held  its  course.  When  they  re-appeared  it  was  in 
ascending  the  abrupt  acclivity  of  the  knoll,  and  within  fifty  paces 
of  the  party  on  the  top  of  it. 

It  was  now  apparent  that  the  approaching  party  consisted  of 
Stephen  Foster  and  three  or  four  of  the  Rangers  led  by  Horse  Shoe 
Robinson,  with  Butler  still  seated  before  him,  as  when  the  sergeant 
first  caught  him  up  in  the  fight.  These  were  at  the  same  moment 
overtaken  by  Henry  Lindsay,  who  had  turned  back  from  the 
mountain  at  the  firet  announcement  of  victory,  to  bring  the  tidings 
to  his  sister. 

Mildred’s  cheek  grew  deadly  pale,  and  her  frame  shook,  as  the 
cavalcade  rushed  into  her  presence. 

“  There — take  him  I”  cried  Horse  Shoe,  with  an  efibrt  to  laugh, 
but  which  seemed  to  be  half  converted  into  a  quaver  by  the  agitation 
of  his  feelings,  as,  springing  to  the  ground,  he  swung  Butler  from 


588 


riORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


the  horse,  with  scarce  more  effort  than  he  would  have  used  in 
handling  a  child ;  “  take  him,  ma’am.  I  promised  myself  to¬ 
day,  that  I’d  give  him  to  you.  And,  now,  you’ve  got  him.  That’s 
a  good  reward  for  all  youi-  troubles.  God  bless  us — but  I’m  happy 
to-day !” 

“  Mr  HUSBAND  ! — MY  DEAR  HUSBAND  !”  Were  the  only  articulate 
Mmrds  that  escaped  hlildred’s  lips,  as  she  fell  senseless  into  the  arms 
of  Arthur  Butler. 


CHAPTER  LVm. 


THE  CONCLUSION. 

The  victoi'j  was  w'on.  In  the  last  assault,  Campbell  bad  reached 
the  crest  of  the  mountain,  and  the  loyalists  had  given  ground  with 
decisive  indications  of  defeat.  Ferguson,  in  the  hopeless  effort  to 
rally  his  soldiers,  had  flung  himself  into  their  van,  but  a  bullet  at 
this  instant  reached  his  heart;  he  fell  from  his  seat,  and  his  white 
horse,  which  had  been  conspicuous  in  the  crowd  of  battle,  bounded 
wildly  through  the  ranks  of  the  Whigs,  and  made  his  way  down 
the  mountain  side. 

Campbell  passed  onward,  driving  the  royalists  before  him.  For 
a  moment  the  discomfited  bands  hoped  to  join  their  comrades  in 
the  rear,  and,  by  a  united  effort,  to  effect  a  retreat :  but  the  parties 
led  by  Sevier  and  Cleveland,  cheered  by  the  shouts  of  their  vic¬ 
torious  companions,  urged  tlieir  attacks  with  new  vigor,  and  won 
the  hill  in  time  to  intercept  the  fugitives.  All  hopes  of  escape 
being  thus  at  an  end,  a  white  flag  was  displayed  in  token  of  sub¬ 
mission  ;  and  the  remnant  of  Ferguson’s  late  proud  and  boastful 
army,  now  amounting  to  between  eight  and  nine  bundled  men, 
surrendered  to  the  assailants. 

It  has  scarcely  ever  happened  that  a  battle  has  been  fought,  in 
which  the  combatants  met  with  keener  individual  exasperation 
than  in  this.  The  mortal  hatred  which  embittered  the  feelings  of 
Whig  and  Tory  along  this  border,  here  vented  itself  in  the  eager¬ 
ness  of  conflict,  and  gave  the  impulse  to  every  blow  that  was  struck 
— rendering  the  fight,  from  beginning  to  end,  relentless,  vindictive, 
and  bloody.  The  remembrance  of  the  thousand  cruelties  practised 
by  the  royalists  during  the  brief  Tory  dominion  to  which  Iny  nar¬ 
rative  has  been  confined,  was  fresh  in  the  minds  of  the  stern  and 
hardy  men  of  the  mountains,  who  had  pureued  their  foe  with  such 


590 


IIOESii  SHOE  JiOBlNSON. 


fierce  animosity  to  this  his  last  stage.  Every  one  had  soure  wrong 
to  tell,  and  burned  with  an  unquenchable  rage  of  revenge.  It  was, 
therefore,  with  a  yell  of  triumph  that  they  saw  the  symbol  oi 
submission  raised  aloft  by  the  enemy  ;  and  for  a  space,  the  forest 
rang  with  their  loud  and  reiterated  huzzas. 

Many  brave  men  fell  on  either  side.  Upon  the  slopes  of  the 
mountain  and  on  its  summit,  the  bodies  of  the  dead  and  dying  lay 
scattered  amongst  the  rochs,  and  the  feeble  groans  of  the  wounded 
mingled  with  the  fierce  tones  of  exidtation  from  the  living.  The 
AVhigs  sustained  a  grievous  loss  in  Colonel  Williams,  who  had 
been  struck  down  in  the  moment  of  victory.  He  was  young, 
ardoit,  and  brave ;  and  his  many  soldier-like  virtues,  combined 
with  a  generous  and  amiable  temper,  had  rendered  him  a  cho'ished 
favorite  with  the  army.  His  death  served  still  more  to  increase  the 
exacerbation  of  the  conquerors  against  the  conquered. 

The  sun  was  yet  an  hour  high  when  the  battle  was  done.  The 
^Tiigs  were  formed  in  two  lines  on  the  ridge  of  the  mountain  ; 
and  the  prisoners,  more  numerous  than  their  captors,  having  laid 
down  their  arms,  were  drawn  up  in  detached  columns  on  the 
intervening  ground.  There  were  many  sullen  and  angry  glances 
exchanged,  during  this  period  of  suspense,  between  victors  and 
vanquished  ;  and  it  was  with  a  fearful  rankling  of  inward  wrath, 
that  many  of  the  Whigs  detected,  in  the  columns  of  the  prisoners, 
some  of  their  bitterest  persecutors. 

This  spirit  was  partially  suppressed  in  the  busy  occupation  that 
followed.  Preparations  were  directed  to  be  made  for  the  night- 
quarters  of  the  army  ;  and  the  whole  host  was,  accordingly,  ordered 
to  march  to  the  valley.  The  surgeons  of  each  party  were  already 
fully  employed  in  their  vocation.  The  bodies  of  the  wounded  were 
strewed  around  ;  and,  for  the  protection  of  such  as  were  not  in  a 
condition  to  be  moved,  shelters  were  made  of  the  boughs  of  trees, 
and  fires  kindled  to  guard  them  from  the  early  frost  of  the  season. 
All  the  rest  retired  slowly  to  the  appointed  encampment. 

Whilst  Campbell  was  intent  upon  these  cares,  a  messenger  came 
to  summon  him  to  a  scene  of  unexpected  interest.  He  was 
informed  that  a  gentleman,  not  attached  to  the  army,  had  been 
dangerously  wounded  in  the  fight,  and  now  lay  at  the  further 
extremity  of  the  mountain  ridge.  It  was  added  that  he  earnestly 


II  O  R  S  K  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


591 


desired  an  interview  witli  tlie  commanding  officer.  Campbell  lost 
no  time  in  attending  to  the  request. 

Upon  repairing  to  the  spot,  his  attention  was  drawn  to  a  stranger 
who  lay  upon  the  ground,  llis  wan  and  haggard  cheek,  and  rest¬ 
less  eye,  showed  that  he  snftercd  acute  pain  ;  and  the  blood  upon 
bis  cloak,  which  had  been  spread  beneath  him,  indicated  the 
wound  to  have  been  received  in  the  side.  A  private  soldier  of  the 
British  army  was  his  only  attendant.  To  Campbell’s  solicitous 
and  kind  inquiry,  lie  announced  himself,  in  a  voice  that  was 
almost  over-mastered  by  his  bodily  anguish,  to  bo  Philip  Lindsay, 
of  Virginia. 

“  You  behold,”  he  said,  “  an  unhappy  father  in  pursuit  of  his 
children.”  Then,  after  a  pause,  he  continued,  “  My  daughter 
Mildred,  I  have  been  told,  is  near  me;  I  would  see  her,  and  quickly.” 

“  God  have  mercy  on  us  !”  e.xclaimed  Campbell,  “  is  this  the 
father  of  the  lady  who  has  sought  my  protection  ?  Wounded  too, 
and  badly,  I  fear!  Where  is  Major  Butler,  who  was  lately 
prisoner  with  Ferguson  ?”  he  said,  addressing  the  attendant — “  Go, 
go,  sir,”  he  added,  speaking  to  the  same  person,  “  bring  me  the 
first  surgeon  you  can  find,  and  direct  some  three  or  four  men  from 
the  ranks  to  come  to  your  aid.  Lose  no  time.” 

The  soldier  ivent  instantly  upon  the  errand,  and  soon  returned 
with  the  desired  assistance.  Lindsay’s  wound  had  been  already 
staunched,  and  all  that  remained  to  be  done  was  to  put  him  in 
some  place  of  shelter  and  comfort.  A  cottage  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  was  pointed  out  by  Campbell ;  a  litter  was  constructed, 
and  the  sick  man  was  borne  upon  the  shoulders  of  four  attendants 
to  the  designated  spot.  Meantime,  Campbell  rode  off  to  communi¬ 
cate  the  discovery  he  had  made  to  Mildred  and  her  brother. 

Lindsay’s  story,  since  we  last  parted  from  him,  may  be  bidefly 
told.  He  and  Tyrrel  had  journeyed  into  the  low  country  of 
Virginia,  to  meet  the  friends  of  the  royal  government.  These  had 
wavered,  and  were  not  .to  be  brought  together.  A  delay  ensued, 
during  which  Tyrrel  had  prevailed  upon  Lindsay  to  extend  his 
journey  into  North  Carolina;  whence,  after  an  ineffectual  effort 
to  bring  the  Tory  party  to  some  decisive  step,  they  both  returned 
to  the  l>ove  Cote,  hai  ing  been  nearly  three  weeks  absent. 

Upon  their  arrival,  the  alHicting  intelligence  met  Lindsay  of  the 


692 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


I 


deiDarture  of  Mildred  and  her  brother  for  the  seat  of  war. 
Mildred’s  letter  was  delivered  to  him  ;  and  its  contents  almost 
struck  him  dumb.  It  related  the  story  of  Arthur  Butler’s  misfor¬ 
tunes,  and  announced,  that,  for  nearly  a  year  past,  Mildred  had 
been  the  wedded  wife  of  the  captive  officer.  The  marriage  had  been 
solemnized  in  the  preceding  autumn,  in  a  hasty  moment,  as  Butler 
travelled  south  to  join  the  army.  The  only  witnesses  were  Mistress 
Dimock,  under  whose  roof  it  had  occurred,  Henry  Lindsay,  and 
the  clergyman.  The  motives  that  induced  this  marriage  were 
explained :  both  Mildred  and  Arthur  hoped,  by  this  irremediable 
step,  to  reconcile  Lindsay  to  the  event,  and  to  turn  his  mind  from 
its  unhappy  broodings  :  the  increased  exasperation  of  his  feelings, 
during  the  succeeding  pei'iod,  prevented  the  disclosure  which 
Mildred  had  again  and  again  essayed  to  make.  The 'recent 
dangers  which  had  beset  Arthur  Butler,  had  determined  her  to 
fly  to  his  rescue.  As  his  wife  she  felt  it  to  be  her  duty,  and 
she  had,  accordingly,  resolved  to  encounter  the  peril  of  the 
journey. 

For  a  day  or  two  after  the  peiusal  of  this  letter,  Lindsay  fell 
into  a  deep  melancholy.  His  presentiments  seemed  to  have  been 
fatally  realized,  and  his  hopes  suddenly  destroyed.  From  this 
despondency,  Tyrrel’s  assiduous  artifice  aroused  him.  He  proposed 
to  Lindsay  the  pursuit  of  his  children,  in  the  hope  of  thus  luring 
him  into  Cornwallis’s  camp,  and  connecting  him  with  the  fortunes 
of  the  war.  The  chances  of  life,  he  reasoned,  were  against  Butler,  if 
indeed,  as  Tyrrel  had  ground  to  hope,  that  officer  were  not  already 
the  victim  of  the  snares  that  had  been  laid  for  him. 

Upon  this  advice,  Lindsay  had  set  out  for  Cornwallis’s  head¬ 
quarters,  where  he  arrived  within  a  week  after  the  interview  of 
Mildred  and  Henry  with  the  Biitish  chief. 

Whilst  he  delayed  here,  he  i-eceived  the  tidings  that  liis 
daughter  had  abandoned  her  homeward  journey,  and  tiumed  aside 
in  quest  of  Butler.  This  determined  him  .to  continue  his  pursuit. 
Ty'rrel  still  accompanied  him ;  and  the  two  travellers  having 
arrived  at  the  moment  of  the  attack  upon  King’s  mountain, 
Lindsay  was  persuaded  by  his  companion  to  make  the  rash 
adventure  which,  we  have  already  seen,  had  been  the  cause  of  his 
present  misfortune. 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


693 


It  is  not  my  purpose  to  attempt  a  description  of  the  scene  in 
the  cottage,  where  Arthur  Butler  and  his  wife,  and  Henry,  first 
saw  Lindsay  stretched  upon  a  rude  pallet,  and  suffering  the 
anguish  of  a  dangerous  wound.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that,  in  the 
midst  of  the  deep  grief  of  the  bystanders,  Lindsay  was  composed 
and  tranquil,  like  one  who  thought  it  vain  to  struggle  with  fate. 
“  I  have  foreseen  this  day,  and  felt  its  coming,”  he  muttered,  in  a 
low  and  broken  voice ;  “  it  has  happened  as  it  was  ordained.  I  have 
unwisely  struggled  against  my  doom.  There,  take  it,”  he  added, 
as  he  stretched  forth  his  hand  to  Butler,  and  in  tones  scarcely  audi¬ 
ble  breathed  out,  “  God  bless  you,  ray  children  !  I  forgive  you.” 

During  the  night  fever  ensued,  and  with  it  came  delirium.  The 
patient  acquired  strength  from  his  disease,  and  raved  wildly,  in  a 
strain  familiar  to  his  waking  superstition.  The  same  vision  of  fate 
and  destiii)^  haunted  his  imagination  ;  and  he  almost  frightened 
his  daughter  from  beside  his  couch,  with  the  fervid  eloquence  of 
his  madness. 

The  cottage  was  situated  near  half  a  mile  from  the  encamp  • 
ment  of  the  army.  Towards  daylight,  Lindsay  had  sunk  into  a 
slumber,  and  the  attendant  surgeon  began  to  entertain  hopes  that 
the  patient  might  successfully  struggle  with  his  malady.  Mildred 
and  Mary  Musgrove  kept  watch  in  the  apartment,  whilst  Butler, 
with  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  and  Allen  IMusgrove,  remained  anx¬ 
iously  awake  in  the  adjoining  room.  Henry  Lindsay,  wearied 
with  the  toils  of  the  preceding  day,  and  old  Isaac  the  negro,  not 
so  much  from  the  provocation  of  previous  labor  as  from  constitu¬ 
tional  torpor,  lay  stretched  in  deep  sleep  upon  the  floor. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  when,  near  sunrise,  a  distant 
murmur  reached  the  ears  of  those  who  were  awake  in  the  cottage. 
These  sounds  attracted  the  notice  of  Horse  Shoe,  who  immediately 
afterwards  stole  out  of  the  apartment  and  repaired  to  the  camp. 
During  his  walk  thither  the  uproar  became  more  distinct,  and 
shouts  were  heard  from  a  crowd  of  soldiers  who  were  discovered 
in  a  confused  and  agitated  mass  in  the  valley,  at  some  distance 
from  the  encampment.  The  sergeant  hastened  to  this  spot,  and, 
upon  his  arrival,  was  struck  with  the  shocking  sight  of  the  bodies 
of  some  eight  or  ten  of  the  Tory  prisoners  suspended  to  the  limbs 
of  a  large  tree. 


594 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


The  repose  of  the  night  had  not  allayed  the  thirst  of  revenge 
amongst  the  Whigs.  On  the  contrary,  the  opportunity  of  con¬ 
ference  and  deliberation  had  only  given  a  more  fatal  certainty  to 
their  purpose.  The  recent  executions  which  had  been  permitted  in 
Cornwallis’s  camp,  after  the  battle  of  Camden,  no  less  than  the 
atrocities  lately  practised  by  some  of  the  Tories  who  were  now 
among-st  the  captured,  suggested  the  idea  of  a  signal  retribution. 
The  obnoxious  individuals  were  dragged  forth  from  their  ranks 
at  early  dawn,  and  summary  punishment  was  inflicted  by  the 
excited  soldiery  in  the  manner  which  we  have  described,  in 
spite  of  all  remonstrance  or  command. 

This  dreadful  work  was  still  in  progress  when  Horse  Shoe 
arrived.  The  crowd  were,  at  that  moment,  forcing  along  to  the 
spot  of  execution  a  trembling  wretch,  whose  gaunt  form,  crouching 
beneath  the  hands  that  held  him,  and  pitiful  supplications  for 
mercy,  announced  him  to  the  sergeant  as  an  old  acquaintance. 
The  unfortunate  man  had  caught  a  glance  of  Robinson,  and, 
almost  frantic  with  despair,  sprang  with  a  tiger’s  leap  from  the 
grasp  of  those  who  held  him,  and,  in  an  instant,  threw  his  arms 
around  the  sergeant’s  neck,  ivhere  he  clung  with  the  hold  of 
a  drowning  man. 

“  Oh  save  me,  save  me.  Horse  Shoe  Robinson  !”'  he  exclaimed 
wildly.  “  Friend  Horse  Shoe,  save  me  !” 

“  I  am  no  friend  of  yours,  Wat  Adair,”  said  Robinson,  sternly. 

“  Speak  for  me — Galbraith — speak,  for  old  acquaintance  sake  1” 

“  Hold  !”  said  Robinson  to  the  crowd  who  had  gathered  round 
to  pluck  the  fugitive  from  his  present  refuge.  “  One  word,  friends  ! 
stand  back,  I  have  somewhat  to  say  in  this  matter.” 

“  He  gave  Butler  into  Hugh  Habei-shaw’s  hands,”  cried  out 
some  of  the  crowd. 

“  He  took  the  price  of  blood,  and  sold  Butler’s  life  for  money — 
he  shall  die  !”  shouted  others. 

“  No  words  !”  exclaimed  many,  “  but  up  with  him  !” 

“  Mr.  Robinson,”  screamed  Adair,  with  tears  starting  from  his 
eyes,  “  only  hear  me !  I  was  forced  to  take  sides  against  Major 
Butler.  The  Tories  would  have  burnt  down  my  house ;  they  suspected 
me, — I  was  obliged, — Mike  Lynch  was  witness, —  mei’cy,  mercy  !” 
and  here  the  frightened  culprit  cried  loud  and  bitterly. 


HOUSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


595 


“  Friends,”  said  Horse  Shoe  calmly  to  the  multitude,  “  there  is 
better  game  to  hunt  than  this  mountain-cat.  Let  me  have  my 
way.” 

“  None  has  a  better  right  than  Horse  Shoe  Robinson,”  said  a 
speaker  from  the  group,  “  to  say  what  ought  to  be  done  to  Wat 
Adair.  Speak  out.  Horse  Shoe  !” 

“  Speak  !  We  leave  it  to  you,”  shouted  some  of  the  leaders  : 
and  instantly  the  crowd  fell  back  and  formed  a  circle  round  Horse 
Shoe  and  Adair. 

“  I  give  you  your  choice,”  said  the  sergeant,  addressing  the 
captive,  “  for  though  your  iniquities,  Wat  Adair,  desarve  that  you 
should  have  been  the  first  that  was  strung  up  to  yonder  tree,  yet 
you  shall  have  your  choice,  to  tell  us  fully  and  truly,  without 
holding  back  name  of  high  or  low,  who  put  you  on  to  ambush 
Major  Arthur  Butler’s  life  at  Grindall’s  Ford.  Tell  us  that,  to  our 
satisfaction,  and  answer  all  other  questions  besides  that  we  may  ax 
you,  and  you  shall  have  your  life,  taking,  howsever,  one  hundred 
lashes  to  the  back  of  it.” 

“  I  will  confess  all,  before  God,  truly,”  cried  Adair  with  eager¬ 
ness.  “  James  Curry  told  me  of  your  coming,  and  gave  me  and 
Mike  Lynch  money  to  help  Hugh  Habershaw.” 

“  J ames  Curry  had  a  master  in  the  business,”  said  Robinson  : 
“  His  name  ?” 

Adair  hesitated  for  an  instant  and  stammered  out  “  Captain  St. 
Jermyn.” 

“  He  was  at  your  house  ?  Speak  it,  man,  or  think  of  the 
rope  !” 

“  He  was  there,”  said  Adair. 

“By  my  soul !  Wat  Adair,  if  you  do  not  come  out  with  the 
whole  truth,”  said  Robinson,  with  angry  earnestness,  “  I  take  back 
my  promise.  Tell  me  all  you  know.” 

“  Curry  acted  by  the  captain’s  directions,”  continued  the  woods¬ 
man,  “  he  was  well  paid  for  it,  as  he  told  me,  and  would  have  got 
more,  if  a  quarrel  amongst  Habershaw’s  people  hadn’t  stopped 
them  from  taking  Major  Butler’s  life.  So  I  have  heard  from  the 
men  myself.” 

“  Well,  sir  ?” 

“That’s  all,”  replied  Adair. 


596 


HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON. 


“Do  you  know  nothing  about  the  court-martial?”  asked 
Robinson. 

“  Nothing,  except  that  as  the  Major  wasn’t  killed  at  the  Ford, 
it  was  thought  best  to  have  a  trial,  Avherein  James  Curry  and 
Hugh  Habershaw,  as  I  was  told,  had  agreed  to  swear  against  the 
Major’s  life.” 

“  And  were  paid  for  it  ?” 

“  It  was  upon  a  consideration,  in  course,”  replied  Adair. 

“  And  Captain  St.  Jermyn  contrived  this  ?” 

“It  was  said,”  answered  Adair,  “that  the  captain  left  it  all  to 
Curry,  and  rather  seemed  to  take  Major  Butler’s  side  himself  at 
the  trial.  He  didn’t  want  to  be  known  in  the  business !” 

“  Where  is  this  Captain  St.  Jermyn  ?”  demanded  many  voices. 

This  interrogatory  was  followed  by  the  rush  of  the  party  towards 
the  quarter  in  which  the  prisoners  were  assembled,  and,  after  a 
lapse  of  time  which  seemed  incredibly  short  for  the  perfoianance 
of  the  deed,  the  unhappy  victim  of  this  tumultuary  wrath  was  seen 
struggling  in  the  agonies  of  death,  as  he  hung  from  one  of  the 
boughs  of  the  same  tree  which  had  sujiplied  the  means  of  the 
other  executions. 

By  this  time  Butler  and  Henry  Lindsay,  attracted  by  the  shouts 
that  reached  them  at  the  cottage,  had  arrived  at  the  scene  of 
these  dreadful  events.  Wat  Adair  was,  at  this  moment,  undergo¬ 
ing  the  punishment  for  which  his  first  sentence  w^as  commuted. 
The  lashes  were  inflicted  by  a  sturdy  arm  upon  his  uncovered 
back  ;  and  it  was  remarkable  that  the  wretch  who  but  lately  had 
sunk,  with  the  most  slaidsh  fear,  under  the  threat  of  death,  now 
bore  his  stripes  with  a  fortitude  that  seemed  to  disdain  complaint  or 
even  the  confession  of  pain.  Butler  and  Henry  hurried  with  a 
natural  disgust  from  this  spectacle,  and  soon  found  themselves 
near  the  spot  where  the  lifeless  forms  of  the  victims  of  military 
vengeance  were  suspended  from  the  tree. 

“  Gracious  Heaven  !”  exclaimed  Butler,  “  is  not  that  St.  Jermyn  ? 
What  has  he  done  to  provoke  this  doom  ?” 

“  It  is  Tyrrel  !”  ejaculated  Henry.  “  Major  Butler,  it  is  Tyrrel ! 
That  face,  black  and  horrible  as  it  is  to  look  at,  I  would  know  it 
among  a  thousand !” 

“  Indeed  !”  said  Butler,  gazing  with  a  melancholy  earnestness 


597 


% 

HORSE  SHOE  ROBINSON, 

upon  the  scene,  and  speaking  scarce  above  his  breath,  “  is  it  so  ? 
Tyrrel  and  St.  Jermyn  the  same  person  !  This  is  a  strange 
mystery.”  j 

Robinson,  at  this  moment,  approached,  and,  in  answer  to 
Butler’s  questions,  told  the  whole  story  of  the  commotions  that 
had  just  agitated  the  camp. 

“  St.  Jermyn  was  not  with  Ferguson,”  said  Butler,  when  the 
sergeant  had  finished  his  narrative.  “  How  came  he  here  to- 
day?” 

“  First  or  last,”  replied  Robinson,  “  it  is  my  observation.  Major, 
that  these  schemers  and  contrivers  against  others’  lives  are  sure  to 
come  to  account.  The  devil  put  it  into  this  St.  Jermyn’s  head 
to  make  Ferguson  a  visit.  He  came  yesterday  with  Mr.  Lindsay, 
and  got  the  poor  gentleman  his  hurt.  James  Curry  has  done 
working  for  him  now.  Major.  Master  and  man  have  travelled 
one  road.” 

The  scene  was  now  closed.  The  business  of  the  day  called  the 
troops  to  other  labors.  Campbell  felt  the  necessity  of  an  im¬ 
mediate  retreat  with  his  prisoners  to  the  mountains,  and  his 
earliest  orders  directed  the  army  to  prepare  for  the  march. 

When  Butler  returned  to  the  cottage,  he  found  himself  sur¬ 
rounded  by  a  mournful  group.  The  mMady  of  Lindsay  had  un¬ 
expectedly  taken  a  fiital  turn.  Mildred  and  Henry  were  seated 
by  the  couch  of  their  father,  watching  in  mute  anguish  the  last 
ebbings  of  life.  The  dying  man  was  composed  and  apparently 
free  from  pain,  and  the  few  words  he  spoke  were  of  forgiveness 
and  resignation. 

In  the  midst  of  their  sorrow  and  silence,  the  inmates  of  the 
dwelling  had  their  attention  awakened  by  the  military  music  of 
the  retiring  arm)'.  These  cheerful  sounds  vividly  contrasted  with 
the  grief  of  the  mourners,  and  told  of  the  professional  inditference 
of  soldiers  to  (he  calamities  of  war.  By  degrees,  the  martial  tones 
became  more  faint,  as  the  troops  receded  up  the  valley  ;  and 
before  they  were  quite  lost  to  the  ear,  Campbell  and  Shelby 
appeared  at  the  door  of  the  cottage  to  explain  the  urgency  of  iheit 
present  departure,  and  to  take  a  sad  farewell  of  their  friends. 

Stephen  Foster,  with  Harry  Winter  and  a  party  of  the  Rangers, 
remained  behind  to  await  the  movements  of  Butler.  Horse  Shoe 


/ 

508 


HOUSE  SHOE  U  O  B I K  S  O  N . 


rLoLinson,  Allen  Musgrove,  and  his  daughter,  were  in  constant 
at  tendance. 

Here  ends  my  story. 

In  a  lonely  thicket,  close  upon  the  margin  of  the  little  hrook 
which  waters  the  valley  on  the  easterji  side  of  King’s  mountain, 
the  traveller  of  the  present  day  may  he  shown  an  almost  oblite¬ 
rated  mound,  and  hard  by  he  will  see  the  fragment  of  a  rude 
tombstone,  on  whicli  is  carved  the  letters  P.  L.  Tliis  vestige 
marks  the  spot  where  the  remains  of  I’hilip  Lindsay  were  laid, 
until  the  restoration  of  peace  allowed  them  to  be  transported  to 
the  Dove  Cote. 

There,  also,  in  a  happier  day,  Arthur  Butler  and  Mildred  took 
up  their  abode ;  and  notwithstanding  the  fatal  presentiment  in 
regard  to  the  fortunes  of  his  house  which  had  thrown  so  dark 
a  color  upon  the  life  of  Philip  Lindsay,  lived  long  enough  after 
the  revolution  to  see  grow  up  around  them  a  prosperous  and 
estimable  family. 

Maiy  Musgrove,  too,  attended  Mildred,  and  attained  an  advanc¬ 
ed,  and  I  hope  a  happy  old  age,  at  die  Dove  Cote. 

Wat  Adair,  I  have  heard  it  said  in  Carolina,  died  a  year  after  the 
battle  of  King’s  mountain,  of  a  horrible  distemper,  supposed  to  have 
been  produced  by  the  bite  of  a  rabid  wolf.  I  would  fain  believe, 
for  the  sake  of  poetical  justice,  that  this  was  true. 

Another  item  of  intelligence,  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  the 
war,  may  have  some  reference  to  our  tale.  I  find  that,  in  the 
summer  of  1781,  Colonel  Butler  was  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of 
Cornwallis  in  his  retreat  from  Albemaile  towards  Williamsburgh  ; 
ray  inquiries  do  not  enable  me  to  say,  with  precision,  whether  it 
was  our  friend  Arthur  Butler  who  had  met  this  promotion.  Ilig 
sufferings  in  the  cause  certainly  deserved  such  a  reward. 


THE  ENU. 


Date  Due 

.  jytfU  ■ 

9 

eRAD  ReS*' 

V'E 

i  '  Li: 

n 

§8C162P 

SspS'Ci-AS 

n 

L.  B.  Cat.  No.  1137 

